Second Wind
by Amalgam000
Summary: Sequel to Best Kept Secrets; After being in hiding for about a year, Emily is once more recruited by the CIA to finish what she started with Ian Doyle, but she will only accept under one condition: that SSA Hotchner is also allowed to join the task force.
1. Prologue

**Second Wind**

SUMMARY: After being in hiding for about a year, Emily is once more recruited by the CIA to finish what she started with Ian Doyle, but she will only accept under one condition: that SSA Hotchner is also allowed to join the task force.

CATEGORY: Hotch/Prentiss Romance/AU/Action

RATING: M for some violence and (non-explicit) sexual themes

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here it is! The sequel to my story 'The Best Kept Secrets.' This one's had me obsessed for weeks, so I have to say I'm both sad and relieved to see it done. But all good things come to an end, and that means I can now start thinking about other things, like, you know, enjoying summer ;-) Anyways, I hope this second installment was worth the wait!

As a side note, you probably all know this by now, but PB is back for season 7! Hooray! Now that I've written this I'm curious to see how they're going to bring her back… Without further ado, here's my take on it, with a H/P twist!

TIMELINE: Set about three months after "The Best Kept Secrets", but since this is AU, the season 6 finale never happened, so no budget cut, no JJ coming back to the team (though she does make an appearance or two eventually). Everything up to episode 6x20 'Hanley Waters' is fair game in terms of spoilers, though.

DISCLAIMER: Criminal Minds and its characters are the property of CBS, this story is for entertainment only – no infringement intended I promise.

**1. Prologue**

He was being followed.

He didn't know why, he didn't know by whom, but Hotch knew how to pay attention to details, and he knew this as sure as his son's birthday. The man tailing him was extremely good at blending in the crowd, at looking extraordinarily ordinary, but his skill wasn't a match for Hotch's trained eye. He never forgot a face, and over the last couple of days, he'd seen _his_ quite a few times now; at the grocery store, waiting and sitting in a blue sedan a block or so down his street, hanging around the park where Hotch took Jack on the weekends. Hotch didn't believe in coincidences, and this wasn't the kind of meeting that happened between neighbors who lived in the same neighborhood. This was deliberate and in Hotch's opinion, had already lasted for too long. It was time to put a stop to this.

As he walked briskly towards his house now, he could feel the man's presence not too far behind him. Careful not to let the man know he was aware of his presence, Hotch took sudden a turn into the alley next to his building, then taking advantage of the few seconds where the man would lose sight of him around the corner, he quickly hid behind the fire escape, pulled out his gun and waited.

The man had apparently taken the bait as seconds later he appeared around the corner, looking around carefully, pivoting on his feet. He hadn't drawn any kind of weapon, which was surprising. When the man turned with his back to him, Hotch jumped out of his hiding place and grabbed a fistful of the man's jacket collar, jerking him forward while pushing his gun into the back of his neck.

"Whoa- What the hell man?" the man said as he tried to turn around to face Hotch, but Hotch tightened his grip.

"You've been following me. Why?" he asked in a low but unwavering voice, close to the man's ear.

"Wha- Look, I don't know what you're talking about dude, I-"

Losing his patience, Hotch shoved the man against the brick wall and held him there, his gun still against his neck. "I'm going to ask again, why are you following me?"

The man suddenly exhaled a long sigh, relaxing his shoulders and raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I have a message for you," he said, his voice now devoid of any confusion or fear. "She said you were good, but I needed to make sure you were the real thing."

Even though the man's demeanor had totally shifted, Hotch didn't release him from his grip. "Enough with the cloak and dagger, what are you talking about? What message?"

"In my jacket pocket. There's a note for you."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "You give it to me, slowly."

Complying, the man slowly lowered one of his hands and dug two fingers inside his pocket, and fished out a small piece of paper that looked like a photograph. He slowly raised it, and Hotch grabbed it from him with his free hand.

It _was _a photograph, and it showed the façade of a small Vietnamese grocery store not too far from his house. Flipping it over, something was scribbled on the back, and he couldn't help his heart from skipping a beat when he recognized the handwriting.

_Euripides once wrote: "To persevere, trusting in what  
>hopes he has, is courage in a man. The coward despairs."<br>I'm done acting the coward.  
>Hope the offer still stands.<em>

Hotch returned his attention to the man who was standing - patiently unmoving - in his grasp. "Who gave this to you?" he asked.

The man smirked. "If you don't know, then my apologies, mister, I don't have the right guy and I'll be on my way," he said in a flippant tone, and Hotch had the distinct impression that he was mocking him. His fancy way of saying 'stupid question.'

Hotch released him at last and took a step back as the man straightened up and turned around the face him. "CIA?" It was more a statement than a question.

The man's smirk widened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said as he walked past Hotch with a sloppy salute, leaving him alone in the alley.

"Right," Hotch mumbled to himself as he watched him leave, making sure that he was truly on his way. But he knew that a trained CIA agent could have easily disarmed him – or even killed him – if that had been the plan. So he could only assume that he had nothing to fear from this man, especially now that he knew who had sent him.

His eyes fell on the photo between his fingers again and a small smile escaped his lips as he reread the last two lines.

_I'm done acting the coward. Hope the offer still stands._

This could only mean that she was done with the hiding and the running. She was ready to come back.

_Hope the offer still stands._

"Always," he whispered absentmindedly, his brow furrowing as he flipped it over and once more looked at the photograph. Was this small store going to be their meeting place then? How was he supposed to know when to go there? But then he realized that it didn't matter. She used to be CIA after all.

He wouldn't find her; Emily Prentiss would find him.

* * *

><p>End Prologue<p>

A/N: the story is complete, it's kind of long, so I'll be updating quickly over the next few days. As always, thanks for reading, I hope you'll like it!


	2. The Job Offer

See Prologue for summary and disclaimer...

**Chapter 2: The Job Offer**

Anias Nin once said: "There were always in me, two women at least: one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning, and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest."

_Four days earlier_

The lake was already half frozen, though it was only early December. Wrapped up in a heavy coat and hands deep in her pockets, Emily had to constantly shift from one foot to the other to stay warm. The icy cold wind stung her face where she wasn't covered, and not for the first time she wondered why in hell she had chosen northern Minnesota. Though used to this weather, local people seemed to enjoy complaining about it – as if deriving some sort of pride out of it. The hint of prideful awe in their tones when they told her that 'this kind of cold didn't usually happen until late January!' was both amusing and exasperating. Though she had lived in Chicago for a couple of years, she couldn't remember going through that kind of cold before. It made Emily yearn for the more temperate climates of the East coast or even Mediterranean Europe.

Well, if this went according to plan, she might get her wish fulfilled sooner than expected, Emily thought wryly as she blew some heat into her hands.

After her faked death, the CIA – who apparently felt some measure of responsibility in what had happened – had established a protocol by which Emily could get in touch with them, and vice versa, if anyone heard anything about Ian Doyle. This morning she had been more than surprised to get a phone call following exactly that protocol. Were such a call to be made, she was to meet with an agent at a designated location, on the shore of a small lake not too far from the Canadian border, about an hour-drive from her house. She'd taken her dog Ambassador with her, and though it was too cold outdoors even for a dog, Emily had let her run around for a bit, but then put her in the car and made sure she was warm, cuddled up in several layers of blankets.

Emily startled out of her thoughts when Ambassador started barking, and a second later a car pulled up in the empty parking lot that was probably always full in summer time. Emily prepared herself mentally for this encounter. Working with the CIA again wasn't her idea of fun, but she knew she would have little choice if she wanted to find Doyle again – and get her old life back.

A man that she'd never met before got out of the car and immediately cursed at the cold. He looked in his mid-thirties, a little rough around the edges but otherwise ordinary, clad in simple jeans and a leather jacket that didn't look warm at all.

"You should have worn a hat," Emily said by way of greeting.

"No kidding, who did you piss off?" he asked as he put his hands under his armpits, in an attempt to keep them warm.

"Sorry?"

"No one in their right mind would choose to live in a place like this. It must be punishment or something."

He was smirking, and Emily could tell that he was making his own particular brand of small talk – he knew all about her back story and why she was here now. It was his job to know.

"I'm freezing my ass off, so let's get to the point. Why are we here?"

He leaned back against the hood of his car and dug his hands deep in his pockets, but he still looked like he was shivering slightly. "Ian Doyle's in Boston again."

Emily was startled by the news, but remained expressionless as she replied. "That wasn't a very smart move on his part. What is he up to?"

"Don't know. We haven't actually been able to locate him. We only know that he's there."

She snorted. "Hearsay? Not very reliable."

"Well, we like to call it _Intelligence_," he remarked sarcastically. "And our source is as reliable as it gets."

Emily remained silent as she tried to take this in. Doyle in Boston… why?

"So what do you want to do?" the man asked as he rubbed his hands together, interrupting her thoughts.

"What do _I_ want to do?"

He shrugged. "I was told Doyle was yours to catch."

Emily smiled humorlessly. "And so he is." But then she tilted her head and observed him with curiosity for a moment. "Who are you? What's your role in all this?"

"Thought you'd never ask. I'm Fred Porter, your new partner," he said with a small bow, but even that gesture was filled with sarcasm.

Emily shook her head. "I don't need a partner, nor a handler."

"You mean you don't _want_ one. Sorry. No can do. You want to get this guy, you'll have to work with us or not at all."

"I don't think so. My work for the CIA is over."

"Not if you wanna catch this guy, it's not." He stopped smirking, but Emily wondered whether it was because his lips were frozen. "Besides, you know we want that man dead almost as much as you do. We wouldn't stop you."

Emily stared at him a few seconds longer, sizing him up. As much as she hated the idea, she knew that working with the CIA again was her only chance to get the means to go after Doyle again. They would provide transportation, weapons, fake IDs… "My plan was to contact a friend in DC. He'd be able to help."

"Is this friend an FBI profiler, by any chance? 'Cause if it is, it might not be such a good idea. The FBI has rules that we don't have. _They_ might try to stop you."

"I need someone to trust and I trust him with my life. And I can't really say the same for the CIA at the moment."

"Ouch." He said flatly, but then sighed, looking at her seriously for a second. "Trust is earned, right? Well you know how to get in touch with the Powers That Be to know that this is legit," he said as he pushed himself off the car. "Call me when you're reassured," he said as he handed her a piece of paper with a phone number.

Emily shook her head as she contemplated her options… She could still back out of this, but was it truly in her best interest to do so? "Alright, alright," she said just as he was about to get into his car, stopping him. "I get it. I'm in."

"Good. Looking forward to working with you."

"But I still need you to set up a meeting with my friend in DC. I want him to be a part of this. It's my one condition," Emily said, ignoring him. Was this all just a big game for him?

The smirk was back. "Oh yes, they said you've been out of it for a while," he said but then turned serious again. "Which BAU profiler is it?"

Emily hesitated again. She knew she had little choice to trust this man with her life, but to trust him with Hotch's as well? Did she have that right? It was tempting to try and keep the rest of the team out of it, but the last time they'd spoken, Hotch had almost scolded her for taking up Doyle alone. She let out a sigh. "Aaron Hotchner."

"Ah of course, the unit chief," he said and Emily tried not to react at the fact that he seemed to know a whole lot about her life while she knew nothing about his. He opened his door. "We'll leave tomorrow morning. 'That enough time?"

Emily's stomach knotted painfully, but she nodded. "It is."

"Alright. I'll make the arrangements. We'll come up with a plan to set up a meeting with your Fed on the way." He opened his door wider. "I'll be in touch."

And on that he got into his car and drove off.

_And so it begins_, Emily thought. _Again._

ooooooOoooooo_  
><em>

Leaving the town that had become her life for almost a year was harder than Emily had anticipated when she'd first settled there. She had made friends here, especially her neighbors Sheriff Higgins and his wife Martha, and she'd even gotten to like her teaching job at the local schools. She felt slightly guilty for leaving her students before the term was over, but she knew she wouldn't have another opportunity like this again.

It was now or never.

She quickly came up with a back story that would allow her to leave everything at the last minute – something about death in her family abroad and Emily having to take care of the will and selling the property before she could return. The principals of the schools and the manager of the community center where she worked were really understanding of her 'predicament,' as they all quickly reassured her that her leaving so unexpectedly wasn't a problem. 'They only hoped she would return soon and that everything would go well abroad.' Such kindness only heightened Emily's sense of guilt at having to lie to everyone but, she repeated to herself like a mantra, she didn't have a choice.

Later that day, her 'new partner' contacted her again, giving her instructions on where and when to meet him the next morning for the big departure. At that moment Emily started to get both anxious and excited about _doing_ something at last. She'd been on the bench for too long – it was time to return to the game.

But she couldn't help the feeling of sadness that overcame her when she thought of what she'd be leaving behind this time. She knew she wouldn't be able to take her dog Ambassador with her, nor be able to return to the lake house she'd grown to love. Getting a pet had been one more sign that, once settled into it, leaving this new life had never truly been her intention… she realized that now. She had acted the coward, hiding instead of fighting, under the pretense of needing some time to physically and psychologically collect herself after her ordeal. In retrospect, Emily now realized that she had been getting so comfortable into her new life that she'd started to lose the will to fight for what she'd left in DC.

It was her unexpected meeting with Hotch a few months before that had shaken her out of her lethargy and reminded her that she could potentially still win back what she'd lost. During their last conversation, she had admitted to him how exhausted she felt, and her doubts about ever recovering her will to fight. It was something she had not even admitted to herself prior to that night, and she had been surprised at her own declaration. It had been therapeutic in a way, but it was really Hotch's reassurance that she wasn't alone, that he and the rest of the team would support her if she wanted them to, that had taken some weight off her shoulders.

But that meant saying goodbye to good friends – humans and non-humans alike. Taking a deep steadying breath to calm her nerves, Emily knocked on the door.

"Emmeline- oh it's freezing out, come on in!" Martha Higgins said as she opened the door.

Emily smiled a little as she walked into the warmth of her neighbors' house. "Thanks. Is Hugh around? There's ah… There's something I need to discuss with the both of you."

"Oh my, that sounds serious, my dear."

Emily nodded. "I'm afraid it is."

Martha turned serious and nodded. "He's in the garage trying to fix his snowmobile. Why don't you take off your coat and grab some coffee while I fetch him?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

Emily did as she was told, then sat down at the kitchen table and looked around at the familiar surroundings as she waited. She'd spent almost more time sitting here, in this kitchen, chatting with her neighbors, than in her own house over the last few months. The place was now filled with fond memories, not the least of which being the time Hotch himself had been a guest at this table, the night before he and Seaver had left. She could still see him in her mind's eye: relaxed and enjoying himself like she had rarely witnessed him to do before. Yes, she would miss the safety and comfort of this tiny kitchen as much as the sunrise on the lake every morning.

She startled out of her thoughts as the door opened and Hugh and his wife came in along with a gust of cold air. It made Emily shiver.

"Haven't see you in a while, how've you been kid?" Sheriff Higgins asked as Emily greeted him with a quick hug.

"Good, okay," she said as she took her seat and Martha sat next to her, while Hugh poured himself some coffee. "Can you believe this cold?" she found herself saying before she could stop herself, and was sorely tempted to roll her eyes at herself. But she had to admit, weather talk was extremely efficient stalling material.

Hugh snorted. "If it keeps going like this, it'll be too cold for snow and we won't have a white Christmas."

Emily was about to reply, but Martha beat her to it.

"So what's this serious business you need to talk to us about?"

Emily took a deep breath, but couldn't quite meet their eyes, so she stared down at her warm mug between her fingers. "There's… Something came up, and I need to leave for a while."

"Leave?" Martha repeated. "You're not in any danger, are you?"

Emily looked up in surprise at this. "Why do you say that?"

The old couple shared a long look that only they understood, but after a second Hugh nodded and Martha turned to her once more. "Well… we've always assumed that you were running away from something when you first got here. We thought maybe an abusing husband…"

Emily widened her eyes and shook her head, though in truth she was surprised at how close to the mark they really were. "Oh no, it's nothing like that," she lied. She swallowed as she prepared to deliver her false back story, but the words tasted like ash on her tongue. "I have an uncle, on my mother's side, who lives- used to live in Brussels. I got a call a couple of days ago saying that he died suddenly. As his closest living relative I'm apparently inheriting most of his property, including his business. So I need to travel there and take care of everything."

"Oh," Martha said, looking somewhat relieved, but not quite convinced either. "I'm sorry to hear that, Emmeline." There was a pause. "But you _would_ tell us if you were threatened in any way, right?" she added.

Emily smiled a little sadly at her concern, but didn't answer her question directly, instead changed the subject. "I know this is kind of last minute, but I have a favor to ask you. Well two, actually."

Hugh sat down at the table opposite her. "Of course. What do you need?"

"Ambassador… I can't take her with me- it would only be temporary, I'll come back to get her but-"

"Of course we'll keep her for you," Martha said, cutting off Emily's ramblings. "How long do you expect you'll be gone for?"

Emily grimaced. "That's the thing, I'm not really sure. It could be a few months."

Martha looked saddened by the news, but her husband beat her to an answer. "Don't worry about it," Hugh said with a definite shake of the head. "What's the second favor?"

"The house… I don't have time to find anyone to rent it, and I'd really appreciate it if you could check up on it every once in a while?"

"Of course. We could find someone to rent it for you if you'd rather have someone live there?" Martha suggested.

"Would you? I'd really appreciate it."

"It's no problem," Hugh assured her.

"When are you leaving?" Martha asked as Emily rose to her feet and grabbed her coat.

"Tomorrow morning."

"_Tomorrow_?" Martha repeated in surprise. Clearly she hadn't expected her to leave so soon.

Emily nodded. "My uncle's business partners sounded a little anxious over the phone. They said I needed to be there as soon as possible. I think they just want to get this over with."

"They sound like lovely people," Hugh remarked, making Emily smile.

She paused as she looked between the two of them, and found herself trying to etch their faces into her memory. She cleared her throat. "Well, I better be on my way. I have some packing to do. I'll bring Ambassador and her stuff in the morning then?"

Martha followed her to the door. "Whenever you're ready, my dear."

"Thank you so much! Both of you!" Emily said, trying to sound like she was actually leaving with the intention of coming back, when she knew deep down there was a strong chance it might not go down that way.

That night Emily packed what little belongings she wanted to take with her. It wasn't much, considering that she would most likely be able to get clothing and such once she'd reached her destination. She folded and put whatever clothing she wasn't taking with her in a big bag; that would go to donation, she decided. She didn't have much furniture, but she tidied up what she had and made sure that the house was in order for whomever would rent it.

Feeling that everything was ready, Emily climbed into bed and called Ambassador to join her. The dog snored and drooled, but she had been a dear companion to her, and Emily would not have spent these last few hours apart from her if her life depended on it. As she stroked the soft fur of the dog's head absentmindedly, her thoughts swirled with memories.

She seemed to constantly move in and out of people's lives; following her parents around as a kid, her early FBI years, her recruitment by the CIA to profile terrorists, and the feeling of belonging she'd found at the BAU.

She smiled as she remembered her first day there, standing awkwardly in Hotch's office, holding her box of belongings as he told her that her assignment to the team had been a mistake. She had been determined at the time to prove him wrong; if only he gave her a chance. It had turned out pretty well, she thought, but more than that… For the first time in her life Emily had felt like she'd been settling down, forging relationships that lasted a lifetime instead of the meetings at crossroads that were too soon forgotten.

Moving in and out of people's lives had been a constant in her life, but she was determined to find that peace she'd found at the BAU again.

Even if it cost her her life.

oooooOooooo

They went over the Intel as their plane made its way to the East Coast – Emily's plan had apparently been accepted as their first destination was DC and Hotch had been give clearance – and she got to know Fred Porter a little better. Despite the sarcasm that was constantly turning an otherwise nice smile into an annoying smirk, he seemed a capable agent and an overall OK guy.

He'd come up with a plan to get in touch with Hotch, but Emily was a little skeptical about it.

"You'll need to be convincing. He doesn't trust easily," she said.

"Makes me wonder whether you rubbed off on him, or him on you…"

"He'll need some kind of proof that I'm the one behind this," she went on, ignoring him. "I'll write something on the back of the picture. He'll recognize my handwriting."

"No signature, no initials!"

Emily gave him a look. "No! Really?" she replied sarcastically, then shook her head. "I've done this before, you know."

He raised his hands defensively. "Alright, just making sure!"

"I'm still not convinced that following him around is the right way to go, though. He's really good at what he does," Emily went on, "you have to prepare yourself for the possibility that he might detect you." She sighed. "You know, maybe I should just contact him myself-"

"You might trust him with your life, Prentiss, but I don't know the guy. If he's gonna work with us, I need to see for myself what he's made up of."

Emily narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What does that mean?"

"Relax. I'm not gonna touch him! Jeez, you're really protective of him, aren't you?"

Emily stubbornly ignored that comment.

Once in Virginia, they settled in a safe house about an hour or so north of DC where Emily met two local agents – whose nicknames were Snipe and Mo - who had been assigned to the case. While Porter went out to play hide and seek with Hotch, Emily met with the other agents in order to figure out, first, where Doyle was hiding, second, what he was up to, and third, how to catch him. They were fairly certain that Doyle had not yet changed location, but Emily couldn't help the feeling of urgency in her gut. They didn't have much time!

What made Emily a little nervous was that she had made all of the arrangements to get Declan on a plane from Boston, getting local agents from various agencies involved. Was he in town now because he was following a trail? She debated with the other agents whether they should make sure that Declan was safe first, or whether that would be too risky and they should focus on Doyle instead.

Emily had known the boy well, but that had been years ago, and she had made it so that he would have moved a couple of times before settling in his final destination. She had done this exactly so that Emily – or anyone else involved, for that matter – wouldn't have a clue where he actually was. An extra protection in case agents talked under torture. But truth be told, anything could have happened to him since she'd last seen him, and she would have had no way of knowing. The thought made her stomach knot painfully.

Everyday Emily tried to persuade Porter to just hurry up and give Hotch her message, as she was starting to get anxious to go to Boston. Porter, however, would have none of it as he insisted that he needed to do his thing on his own time. The wait and the feeling that he was doing it for the fun of seeing her react frustrated Emily to no end. Now that she was back in the game, all she wanted to do was fully give herself to it and just be done with it!

She wondered if Hotch, when trying to convince her to come back a few months before, had truly expected her to do it eventually. Since his visit, she had constantly replayed their last conversation in her head to reassure herself that the night had not been a figment of her imagination, but every once in a while she doubted herself and wondered whether she had misunderstood him and his offer to help after all. Well, with her message soon in his hands, she would soon find out anyway. But still, even if he wanted to help, she was going to Boston…Would he want or be available to accompany her there? Given the way they had parted and Emily's not-so-subtle move on him that night, she found herself torn between wishing and dreading that he would. But aside from this, she was also debating with herself whether to get the rest of the team involved as well, but the thought made her more nervous than she wanted to admit. In truth she kind of dreaded some of their reactions. Would they ever be able to forgive her for leaving and worse – faking her own death?

All in good time, she thought, the echo of Porter's frustrating words now a sound of reassurance.

* * *

><p>End chapter 2<p> 


	3. Disguise of Every Sort is My Abhorrence

**Chapter 3: '**Disguise of Every Sort Is My Abhorrence'

* * *

><p>After his encounter with the mystery CIA agent, Hotch decided that he would go to the Vietnamese store the next morning, before heading to Quantico.<p>

He was happy to know that she was apparently feeling energized and confident enough to come back now. When they had met, she had seemed a to be getting a little too comfortable in her new life for his liking. Of course he'd wanted her to be happy, and if that meant staying apart from them and pretending to be Emmeline Pollard for the rest of her life, he would have accepted it without another word. But he had seen how _unhappy_ she had truly been, and the sight of her, subdued and resigned to her fate, had genuinely bothered him because that just wasn't _her._ In the end he'd had to ask her straight out about her intentions, and though it had apparently pained her to really face her options, he liked to think that his presence in that new life of hers had thrown her off balance and reminded her of what she'd lost.

He barely dared to admit it to himself, but he was looking forward to seeing her again. Their last conversation a few months before had altered the balance of their relationship somewhat – their interaction had been on more equal footing then, allowing them to break some of the professional barriers between them and to express themselves more freely. It had been an unfamiliar yet thrilling experience for Hotch to interact with her on a more personal level – to the point of holding her in his arms – and despite himself he was now intrigued to see if they would pick up where they left off, or if they would revert back to their old professional relationship.

Yes, he was glad that she had apparently found herself again, but his desire to see her was clouded by a feeling of dread that he couldn't quite explain to himself. Was he just being overprotective? For as much as he wished that she would return to them, for the last few months he had found comfort in the knowledge that she was safe and surrounded by people who cared about her. In truth he had appreciated the respite, as it had given him the freedom to miss her like other people missed ones they cared about, without the constant uneasiness clutching at his gut and slight feeling of guilt that had characterized the first few weeks after she'd left. But now her coming back meant leaving her safety behind, and that worried him. Doyle had already taken her life once – almost literally – and Hotch had no doubt that the man would have no scruple in doing it a second time if given the chance. He knew he couldn't stop her from going after him again, and he didn't want to - this was her fight and he respected that – but a part of him dreaded the outcome.

Would he be able to protect her this time?

He'd often passed the small store from the photo when driving or walking, but he had never gone in before. Hotch took off his sunglasses as he pushed the door open and took a look around. Though it was early still, it was pretty busy, but there was no sign of her yet. Walking in more fully, he made his way to the small produce section and, as slowly as he could without looking suspicious, selected some fruits to take home. When he thought he'd spent enough time just standing there, looking at apples, pears and peaches, he moved over to the vegetables.

"For the most decisive person I know, you sure take a long time choosing your fruit."

Hotch smiled slightly at her sarcastic voice beside him, but fought the urge to look up and instead focused on pretending he was assessing the quality of the broccoli.

"I see Emmeline Pollard's taking a vacation?" he asked conversationally.

"More like forced relocation." She paused as she, too, started selecting produce from the stands. "Thanks for coming."

At last Hotch threw her a look. She was dressed like a wintertime jogger, with layers of sweaters, fingerless gloves, a dark hat and her hair into two braids, sporty sunglasses lying on top of her head. The overall look made her appear years younger. "Of course. That agent I met…?"

"My partner."

Her partner? His brow furrowed, but he pushed the uneasy feeling aside for the moment. "So how can I help?"

Her lips turned upward a little. "Yeah? You know what you're in for, you sure you want to get involved?" she asked in a low voice, her dark eyes searching his face.

Hotch couldn't help but smile a little at her wide eyes and hopeful expression. "Yes, I am."

She nodded and her eyes darted down. "Thanks," she said before looking around a little nervously. She leaned into him slightly so that she could lower her voice. "I'm going to Boston."

"I thought you might," Hotch agreed.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You know about it?" she asked, though her whisper grew a little louder.

"Did you think we would just let him escape and not try to find him again? As far as the FBI's concerned, he killed one of our own. That makes him under our jurisdiction. Besides, Morgan vowed he'd avenge your death, so we've been keeping an eye out. Well, Garcia has been, in any case."

She gasped, the sound making him glance at her. He could see the realization in her eyes as she stared at him, wide-eyed. "You guys are our source! You're the ones who told us where to look!"

Hotch remained silent as he returned his attention to the bag of carrots in his hand. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of '_you guys_', '_our_ source' and '_us_' when she was obviously referring to herself as part of the CIA. Apparently it hadn't taken very long for her to go back to that life, and for some reason he hated the idea of her working for the CIA again. He had seen how ruthless it had forced her to be, and it had bothered him. Admittedly he wasn't so very keen on the idea of having to work with them himself either. But he had promised to help, and the need to protect her was even stronger now that she was standing close beside him. He didn't think he'd be able to stand aside now even if he wanted to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her voice back to a whisper.

"I thought it might jeopardize your safety if I contacted you myself, and I assumed you would find out soon enough from…other quarters." He leaned in a little as well. "Prentiss, last time we spoke you said you weren't ready to face him again, and I was afraid if I told you, you might jump into this prematurely."

She nodded but stayed silent as she digested this. "This changes things…" she said pensively after a moment.

Hotch frowned. "How so?"

She looked down at the contents of her basket. "I was going to ask for your help… I mean all of you, but I thought… I thought that in order to do that I would have to tell the truth to the others. But maybe I don't have to yet."

Hotch's frown deepened. "You don't want them to know?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head a little sadly. "You know I do, it's just… I don't think it would be fair to them if…"

Hotch raised his eyebrows questioningly when she didn't finish her sentence.

She shook her head. "Never mind," she said on a lighter tone. "I think it's a little too soon now, I need to know what he's been up to first. But I'd like to have Mo – a tech guy assigned to the case – work with Garcia on tracking Doyle. Do you think you could make that happen?"

"Of course."

"Good," she nodded to herself.

Hotch observed her in silence for a few seconds, trying to figure out why she seemed different to him, but she appeared so lost in thought she didn't seem to notice his stare. "What do you want me to do? Do you want me in Boston?" he asked after a moment.

She gave him a sly, sidelong look. "Am I giving the orders now?"

Hotch shrugged a little and the gesture made their shoulders brush. He shifted on his feet, putting some distance between them. "This is your case. And I'm not your boss anymore."

"Right…" She furrowed her brow in concentration. "What about BAU cases?"

"You know we always have new cases to work on, but if you need someone to watch your back in Boston for a few days, I'm prepared to do that. The team will do fine without me for now."

"Oh." She sounded surprised, but agreeably so. "That's great, then."

"What about your partner? Are you sure I won't be stepping on his toes?" Hotch asked, observing her face carefully to see what she really thought about the man.

She shrugged slightly, her expression giving nothing away. "He knew what he was getting himself into by partnering up with me."

Hotch was intrigued by that non-answer, but it didn't matter.

"Give me a call from this disposable phone in a couple of hours," she went on as she got a small cell phone out of her sweater pocket. "I'll tell you what you need to know for the trip to Boston. Do you have a pen?"

He reached for his pen in his front jacket pocket and handed it to her. To his astonishment she grabbed his hand and pulled his jacket and shirt sleeves as far as they would go up his forearm, and started writing a phone number just above his wrist, where it wouldn't be visible under his sleeve.

He opened his mouth to protest and tried to pull his arm back, but she tightened her grip on his wrist and threw him an amused look. "It's just ink, Hotch. It'll wash off! That's the whole point!" she said with a small chuckle.

How to tell her that he wasn't fighting the fact that she was writing on his arm, but the burning sensation of her cool fingers around his hand and wrist?

"It tickles," he said by way of an explanation instead, but he realized only too late how his complaining tone made him sound not much older than Jack.

She threw him another amused look, one eyebrow raised, but didn't respond.

When she was done she put the cap back onto the pen and gave it back to him. "Memorize it. Don't write it down anywhere," she said as she started walking backwards. "And thanks," she smiled before she turned around and made her way to the cashier.

Hotch watched her from the corner of his eye as she paid in cash for her small selection of fruits, then smiled at the clerk and walked out without another look in his direction.

He touched his arm absentmindedly. Why did he suddenly feel like she had branded him with a hot iron rod instead of a ball-point pen?

* * *

><p>Once at the BAU, Hotch announced to the team that he was taking a few days off for personal reasons, and if they'd all looked a little confused by the suddenness of his announcement, no one verbalized their questions, except to seek reassurance that everything was okay. So as the team left without him for their case in California, Hotch busied himself with some overdue paperwork. After the two hours that Prentiss had requested passed, he pulled out the disposable cell phone she'd given him and, pulling up his sleeve with a shake of the head – he still hardly believed she'd done that - dialed the number she'd written there.<p>

"Barb's Pizza, how can I help you?"

If he hadn't recognized her voice, the slurred speech and fake accent might have actually convinced him that he'd dialed the wrong number.

"It's me," he said simply.

"Oh good timing… Mo's on his way to the BAU right now, he should be there in a few minutes. He'll need a visitor's pass. You'll recognize him easily, he's kinda... Reid-ish."

"I'll take care of it."

"Thanks." There was a pause, and Hotch wondered if he was supposed to say-

"Can you smooth things down with Garcia?" she blurted at last. "She'll get excited over this operation, but I don't want her to tell the others about Doyle. Not yet."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything."

"I know. Thank you."

There was another long pause as Hotch waited for more, but nothing seemed forthcoming. "I should probably go down now and-"

"Take care of MoTech. Right. Call me again when it's settled, we'll go over the plan for Boston."

"Will do, bye."

Prentiss had been right, Hotch easily recognized 'Mo' – or MoTech, as she had apparently nicknamed him – the moment he walked into the building. He did remind him of Reid a little; young, skinny, and wearing dark-rimmed glasses, but his hair was carefully combed back and his suit, though a little too big for him, was much more conventional than Reid's. Hotch walked to him.

"Mo?" In close-up Hotch realized the man was probably much older than he looked.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner, I presume?" he replied as he shook Hotch's hand firmly. Yes, definitely older, Hotch thought. A younger man wouldn't have his confidence.

After getting the visitor's pass from the reception desk, they walked briskly to Garcia's technological abode. On the way, Hotch made sure that Mo knew about Prentiss' past at the BAU and the fact that nobody here knew she was alive. Mo assured him that his lips were sealed, he wouldn't mention her.

Hotch knocked on Garcia's office door, and as they waited, Mo asked: "How good's your tech?"

"Good enough to have tracked Doyle in Boston," Hotch replied a little proudly just as the door burst open.

"Sir! I thought you were taking some personal time, what can I do for- Oh. Who's this?" Penelope Garcia stood in the doorway to her office, looking Mo up and down curiously.

"Garcia, we need your help. Can we come in?" Hotch asked.

"Of course! What can I do for you gentlemen?"

They walked in and Hotch closed the door behind them. "This is Mo, he's with the CIA. They're taking charge of Ian Doyle's case, and since you're the one who tracked him down, they have requested that you help on the case as well."

Garcia looked up at him wide-eyed, speechless for a second. "But sir, the others-"

"Don't need to know," Hotch finished for her. "As much as I wish this were our case, it isn't. Only you and I will be working on this in collaboration with the CIA team assigned to the case."

"Yes sir… Oh boy, Derek's gonna be so mad if he finds out about this…"

"I know, but he can't know. Not yet anyway. I'm going to Boston with their team of agents. But you will report to me, as usual."

"Okay."

Hotch looked at his watch. "The others won't need you for a few hours yet. Use that time to set up and get Mo up to speed. He's here so you can manage both cases at once, so make sure you use his abilities well."

"Okay."

"I'll leave you two to it. I'll be in touch."

He opened the door and he smiled as he overheard Garcia's comment just as the door was closing behind him.

"What kind of a name is Mo? Wait- Don't say you'll have to shoot me if you tell me, that line's _way_ overused."

ooo0ooo

Back in his office, Hotch called Prentiss again. She quickly gave him the instructions as to where and when to meet with them in a few hours time.

"We can postpone the departure an hour if you need more time with Jack before we leave?" she suggested.

"Thanks, that'd be great. I've already contacted my former sister-in-law and she agreed to take care of him for as long as I need. I just need to drive him to her place before we leave."

"Of course," Prentiss agreed softly at the other end of the line. "Take your time. We won't leave without you."

So it was that at 4pm that afternoon Hotch found himself parking his car outside a shabby-looking warehouse about an hour-drive from DC. He hadn't been there for more than two seconds when he saw Prentiss come out to come and greet him.

"Hey, you're on time after all," she said as he got out to join her.

"Leaving the BAU early helped me get everything done on time."

"Good," she nodded as they walked, but after a moment she suddenly stopped and Hotch imitated her, turning to look at her. She had changed into more regular clothes since the morning, and Hotch noticed the trademark military boots she used to wear for raids and the way her hair was now pulled into a ponytail. She looked ready for business.

"Hotch, listen…" She observed him thoughtfully for a moment, as if searching for something in his expression. Then her eyes darted down quickly before coming back up to meet his. "Thanks for doing all this, I know you're not very fond of all the secrecy, so I just want you to know... I appreciate it."

"I knew this would be the price to pay to find Doyle the moment I called Langley." He paused as he watched her nod, tilting his head to the side slightly as he observed her. "How do _you_ feel about all this?"

"Ha!" She let out a small humorless chuckle as she busied herself with tightening the belt on her jacket and carefully avoided his eyes. "Ah… Ask me tomorrow."

Hotch tilted his head and but stayed silent.

She shrugged as she started walking again. He fell in step with her. "I don't know, Hotch. I'm not all that thrilled either. Sometimes I wish this could be like any other BAU case, with the team working on it like we used to."

"It could still be that way if you told the rest of the team the truth."

She sighed and shook her head sadly. "You don't understand…"

He stopped her with his hand on her arm. "Try me, Prentiss. In my mind there's nothing to keep you from telling them the truth. Doyle doesn't care about us anymore, he-"

"What if I don't make it this time?" she blurted out, and he could tell that it had cost her to say the words out loud. "What if this doesn't work out? Don't you think it's better to let them believe I'm dead until I'm sure I'm going to make it through this one alive? It wouldn't be fair to tell them the truth now, only to get myself killed- again."

Hotch understood her reasoning, but he also found her words a little worrying. "Prentiss, stop it," he said firmly. "What makes you think you won't make it?"

She shook her head, looking a little taken aback by his brusque tone. "Nothing. But I don't want to risk hurting them like this again."

She resumed walking, but Hotch stopped her before she could move out of his reach, this time leaving his fingers around her wrist and holding her in place gently but firmly. It angered him to hear her speak so negatively. Maybe she wasn't ready for this after all? She sighed in frustration but didn't try to snatch her arm away.

"Prentiss, you listen to me," he said as he stepped a little closer and took off his sunglasses. "You're going- _we _are going to make it through this, you know why? Because this time you're not doing this alone. You have a partner, you have a team of agents who know exactly what they're up against. Hell, you have me. And I won't-"

"Hey, you two profilers!" A voice called from the door, interrupting Hotch in mid-sentence. When he looked over, he recognized the man who'd followed him around. Prentiss' new partner. "You'll have time to catch up on the plane, let's go!"

Hotch stepped back and let go of her arm. They exchanged a look before she started walking again. Hotch followed her towards the entrance door, where he met with the other agent – Porter – and an older looking agent everyone called 'Snipe'.

After some brief introductions, they walked to the cargo plane they would be traveling on. Minutes later, they were off the ground, Snipe acting as their pilot.

"I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the jet, right about now," Prentiss commented as she tried to make herself comfortable next to him on the straight side benches lining the walls of the plane.

Hotch smiled when he realized she was only saying this to tease Porter. "I don't know Prentiss, I kind of like this, it's very 1984…" he added.

"Alright enough of that," Porter interrupted their teasing, "not everyone can afford to travel as elegantly as the elite of the FBI."

Hotch exchanged an amused look with Prentiss as Porter got out a map of Boston and spread it out onto the floor between them.

"What, no iPad?" Prentiss teased again, this time with a smile.

Porter just threw her a 'very funny' look, before returning his attention to the floor. "Alright, so we know from your tech that Doyle arrived by boat-"

"Wait," Prentiss interrupted, "how _did _Garcia find him?" she asked.

"We knew from your reports that in Doyle's weapons trafficking days," Hotch started, "he would get his shipments from America through cargo ships."

She nodded in agreement.

"Don't ask me how, but Garcia was able to track down a couple of the ships he'd used before he became of interest for governmental agencies. Technically, we have no evidence against those ships and their crew, but because we knew the names of Doyle's Irish associates who were killed in the raid, Garcia was able to track _their _names down, as well as any transactions they might have made with the ship's crew that seemed legit enough to leave paperwork. She was able to hack into Boston harbor's shipping data and put an alert for any names that had connections with Doyle."

"Last week, one of his dead associates' name popped up," Porter continued. "Then we got the call from the FBI and we immediately sent our local agents to investigate. Doyle wasn't there anymore, obviously, but a security guard recognized his picture and confirmed he'd been on the ship."

"Was the cargo investigated?"

Porter nodded. "Yeah, nothing suspicious."

"So he's not here to deal," Prentiss confirmed.

"We put out an APB, but nothing so far," Hotch said.

"And we have agents infiltrating Doyle's favorite locations as we speak," Porter finished.

"If he's not back to deal merchandise, why would he risk going back to Boston?" Hotch asked. That had bugged him since Garcia had given him the call in the middle of the night. "He must know we'd be on the watch for him. What's there for him now?"

He saw Prentiss exchange a look with Porter. "His son," she said.

Hotch frowned. "What do you mean, I thought you- I thought his son was dead."

She shook her head. "I faked the photos so that everyone would believe him dead, including the various agencies who wanted to get their hands on him to get whatever information they could out of him. I wasn't about to let him go through that." She paused, and he saw that she was frowning. "Did you really think I could kill a seven year old boy in cold blood?"

Hotch looked away, a little ashamed that a part of him _had_ believed her capable of it. He shook his head. "Honestly, Prentiss, when we found out about this I didn't know what to believe anymore. I could only hope that you hadn't pulled the trigger yourself."

Her eyes wide, she turned to look at him, and he could tell that his admission had hurt her. "God, how were you able to bear talking to me thinking I had murdered a child?"

"Look, the point is," Porter interrupted, "that Declan is alive, and we think Doyle's trying to find him now that he knows the truth about him."

"How does he know?"

"I told him, that night he had me in the warehouse," Prentiss admitted. "I realize it was stupid, but I was trying to provoke him. I knew you guys were coming, I was stalling."

Hotch nodded. "Where is Declan now?"

"I don't know," Prentiss said with a small shake of the head. "I made sure I wouldn't know, so Doyle couldn't get that from me, at least."

"Don't you think we should try to find _him_ as well? If Doyle is after the boy now, we don't know how close he is to finding him. We should have people ready for him at that end if need be."

"Don't bother Hotch, I've already tried convincing them this is the right to do," Prentiss said as she threw Porter a look.

The spy shook his head. "It's not that I don't think it's a good idea, it's just with five of us we're stretched a little thin at the moment, and we can't have people all over the place. We need to focus on our target: it's either Doyle or Declan."

They all remained silent for a moment as they considered the truth of this. Hotch had an easy and rather obvious solution, but he wasn't sure Prentiss would like it. He caught her eyes and raised his eyebrows, holding her gaze.

Her eyes widened when she finally understood his intentions, her lips freezing in a small 'o'. He watched, a little fascinated, as a myriad of emotions passed over her face as she started to shake her head, but then stopped as she became hopeful that it could actually work, to confusion as she looked down, still holding her breath. At last she threw him a look and gave a nod.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked, touching her arm to get her to look up to meet his eyes. She looked like she'd been punched in the stomach: in pain and breathless, and he had to make sure that she was truly okay with this.

She nodded again. "Yeah. It's a good idea," she breathed softly.

"Then let's call the cavalry," Hotch said to Porter as he fished his phone from his pocket.

* * *

><p>AN: Though at the end of 'Lauren' it sounds like Morgan knew that Emily had not shot Declan, I still don't get how he could have figured it out, since he couldn't have heard her confession to Doyle and she was the only one to know the truth. It was still a good scene, but for the purpose of this story, I've chosen to make it that they don't actually know everything that happened. I think with all the doubts that the team had about Emily in the episode, feeling like they didn't know her after all, it makes sense that Hotch might have thought her capable of doing it. That's just my opinion, but I'm sticking with it for now ;-)

And in case you didn't recognize it, the title for this chapter is a line from Darcy in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I was having my personal little fun, but it seemed fitting for Hotch, somehow!


	4. Operation Prentiss'

**Chapter 4: Operation Prentiss**

Emily wasn't very talkative as she, Porter and Snipe unloaded their equipment, including surveillance and weaponry, from the plane and into the van. She glanced in Hotch's direction as she worked crouching in the plane cabin to push cases and crates closer to the door for the agents to pick up. Hotch was pacing back and forth several meters away, one hand on his hip and the other holding his cell to his ear as he spoke to his interlocutor with all the seriousness and intensity he could muster. She still had mixed feelings about his idea of getting the BAU to help find and protect Declan, but he had agreed with her that it wasn't time yet to reveal her secret to them – it was something she had to do in person. So he assured her that he would keep her name out of this for the moment.

"I'm not sure about this," Porter said, echoing her own doubts.

"It's a good idea," Emily repeated with more confidence than she felt, but her doubts were hers to keep. "You said so yourself, we have to focus on one target at a time, we'll focus on Doyle, they'll focus on finding and protecting Declan. It's perfect. You won't even have to work with them. Hotch will act as the liaison between the two teams."

"Right…" he said, though he didn't sound all that convinced. He dropped a box into the van then straightened up, stopping for a moment to look at her. "Look, I don't have anything against the BAU, or the fact that you want them to be a part of this, I get it."

"But?"

"But I don't think they realize that there is no _catching_ this man, and you and I both know that if they try to do that, we're gonna lose Doyle again."

Emily hated to admit it, but he had a point. How well did Hotch understand her true intentions? She'd always assumed that he would understand, because he'd lived through something similar with Foyet, but he was also an honorable man who believed in the justice system. She shook the thought away and gave a small shrug. "That's why they'll be assigned to finding _Declan_, not Doyle."

"Those are not necessarily mutually exclusive things."

"I know, but you said yourself that we don't have enough people to deal with both at once. Hotch is providing you with enough people. And not just any people: trained FBI agents with resources."

"And morality."

Emily threw him a stare, but kept silent as she kept working. "What do you think?" she asked Snipe, who, though very quiet, had impressed Emily with his good judgment over the last few days.

"I think we could use the help," he said and Emily heard Porter heave a sigh. "And if they can protect the kid," Snipe went on, "then all the better. We won't get distracted if we know that he's safe. Isn't that the whole point of this mission? Make sure that Doyle doesn't find his kid?"

"Yeah," Emily agreed as she realized that in the middle of everything she had lost sight of what this was all about. But he was right, ultimately it wasn't about revenge or her own personal vendetta, it was about making sure that Declan was safe. "It is."

"Then that's all there is to it," Snipe said as he placed the last case into the back of the van.

At that moment Hotch came back, phone still in hand. "I just talked to Dave. They've just started a new case in California, but when I told him what this was about he promised he'd get the team back as soon as he could. I asked him to call regularly with updates. I've also been talking to Garcia and Mo. I've given them the flight number you put Declan on seven years ago, as you suggested. She'll get back to us when they find something."

"What if he's not on US soil?" Emily asked.

"We'll cross that bridge _if_ we get to it."

"Have they got anything on Doyle yet?" Emily asked as they all climbed into the van. As a matter of habit she sat in the back with Snipe while Hotch sat in the front passenger seat, leaving Porter behind the wheel.

"Not yet, but they've established contact with the various people you've got underground. They're ready and watching."

The drive to the safehouse-slash-headquarters was done mostly in silence, except for some small talk about jazz music between Snipe and Porter. They had obviously met before this mission and chatted easily, but Emily soon zoned out into her own mind. Over the last few days she had made good use of her ability to compartmentalize. She had pushed aside any feelings of guilt, fear and whatever it was that Hotch's steadfast loyalty made her feel, instead just focusing on the job, trying to visualize what she had to do and how she would do it. However, while she still had no desire for introspection or to face her own demons, she was wondering what _Hotch_ was thinking.

This was probably turning out to be different than what he'd expected, and she wondered if he regretted his decision to join the mission. She knew that this would take him out of his comfort zone, maybe even forcing him to get his hands dirty, and she felt a little guilty for dragging him into this in the first place. But then she shook the thought away. Hotch was a grown man, he knew what he was doing, and he wouldn't have offered to accompany her to Boston if a part of him hadn't already been prepared to do whatever was necessary. But then again, that was before he'd learned that she wasn't alone after all, that she actually had a team of trained spies at her disposition.

They stopped on the way to the safehouse to grab some take-out Chinese food, which they ate after they settled into the house and got all the equipment in. During the meal Emily stayed quiet as Porter and Snipe questioned Hotch about the BAU: the kinds of cases they worked on, what kind of resources they had. They seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, and Emily found herself a little impressed by their open-mindedness.

Hotch bore the interrogation surprisingly well and Emily noticed that he never asked the questions back, knowing full well that everything he'd ask would be answered by a 'sorry, classified.' Every once in a while he would throw her a look, as if wondering why she wasn't pitching in stories from her own experience, but she was exhausted and didn't feel quite up to it. All this talk about the BAU made her miss it even more, if that was even possible at this point. It was like a constant dull ache in the pit of her stomach now.

"How long were you at the BAU, Prentiss?" Snipe asked, forcing her to take part in the conversation.

"Almost five years."

"It must have been handy to have an ex-CIA agent on your team," Porter commented and Emily fought a roll of the eyes at his cockiness. She'd noticed that he seemed to think the CIA above any other agency. She knew he didn't mean any harm by it, but comments like that always had a way of irritating her a bit.

Emily met Hotch's eyes briefly before she returned her gaze to her plate, her fingers toying with her chopsticks. She wasn't sure why, but contrary to Porter, Emily had always felt a little ashamed by that particular detour in her career. She had done some pretty morally-dubious stuff during her CIA time, and sometimes she wished she could just forget it all. After working for the FBI for so long, being a spy didn't really feel like a badge of honor anymore. Maybe Porter was right, maybe Hotch _had_ rubbed off on her after all…

Seeing that she kept silent, Hotch answered for her. "Agent Prentiss' abilities have always exceeded expectations."

She smiled slightly at his very diplomatic answer, hearing loud and clear what he hadn't said out loud: 'just like any member of my team.' That was something she loved about having Hotch as a unit chief, he respected each and every member of his team equally, regardless of their backgrounds. If a new recruit passed the initial screening of his personal moral and ability code, they earned his acceptance, respect and a loyalty the likes of which she'd rarely witnessed before. How many times had he risked his neck or gone over Strauss' head to keep one of them out of trouble?

After that the conversation turned to some speculation on how long they would need to stay in Boston and Emily soon stopped paying attention. She quickly excused herself, saying something about setting up her room.

The safehouse was equipped with some basic furniture, and the bedrooms each included a mattress – with no blankets - and a chair. Having actually very little to set up, Emily opened her one duffel bag and looked inside: some basic clothing and toiletries to last for a couple of days, a picture of Ambassador, running shoes.

She dropped herself onto the mattress with a sigh as she looked at the dull white of the ceiling and bright neon lights. Though they'd turned on the heat, it was still freezing in the room, so she tightened her jacket around herself. She was exhausted. She felt like she'd been running on adrenaline alone for days now, since her first meeting with Porter, not taking the time to really process what was going on. It had all happened so fast, her head was spinning-

A knock on the door startled her. "Prentiss?"

It was Hotch, and Emily's heart instinctively skipped a beat. She cleared her throat as she jumped to her feet. "Yeah, Hotch, you can come in," she said as she pretended to busy herself with looking for something in her bag.

She gave him a small smile over her shoulder as he walked in, a little awkwardly from what she could tell, as if making sure she was decent before venturing further. Once in, he closed the door behind him and stood observing her in that way that was so unique to him, hands deep in his pockets and head tilted to the side slightly.

"Everything okay? You've been quiet," he said when Emily started to feel like squirming under his stare.

She gave him a smile. "Yeah. It's all good, you?"

"_I'm_ fine," he said in a tone that clearly said he thought that _she_ wasn't.

She shrugged a little. "It's just been a stressful couple of days. I guess I'm not accustomed to the adrenaline rush anymore."

He nodded slowly, as if trying to assess whether she was telling the truth. After a moment, he looked down, his finger rubbing his chin. She knew him well enough to know that meant he was searching for the right words to say something delicate. Emily braced herself, so that when he looked back up she was ready for whatever he had on his mind.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked at last.

"I think so, I mean obviously we just got here so there are still some things to set up, but-"

"No, I mean are _you _really ready for this? To face Doyle again? Here, in Boston?"

Emily gave him a curious frown. "Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be?" she said, though she knew she didn't sound half as confident as she should. She had tried very hard to keep any memory of her last encounter with Doyle out of her mind, but she couldn't deny that deep down, she was terrified. She still woke up in a scream sometimes at night, feeling as if the white hot metal was still burning her skin, or everything was fading to black as she lay in a pool of blood…

"It would be perfectly understandable if you had doubts," he said, interrupting her morbid thoughts, trying to encourage her to say more.

"Doubts?" She shook her head. "I have fears and I have hopes, but no doubts," she said once more with more confidence than she truly felt.

He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, though he didn't look all that convinced, or reassured. "Good…That's good, because I've been thinking…"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I should join the BAU team to search for Declan when they get back from California."

Emily had not expected _that_! Her heart sank as she realized that her doubts about this not being as he'd expected had been right, and she sat back on the mattress, confused. Only a few hours earlier he'd told her that she could count on him, that she wasn't alone! What had changed his mind? And why did the idea of him leaving make her feel so lonely? The situation was nothing compared to the long months she'd just spent basically by herself, so why did this feel a hundred times worst?

"Oh… If that's what you want to do…?" she replied in a voice she hoped neutral.

He sighed a little as he walked to the chair and dragged it closer to where she sat. He took a seat, his forearms coming to rest on his thighs. "It's just… I think I could be of more use there. To be honest I'm not entirely sure why you've wanted me here in the first place. Your team has everything under control. _You_ have everything under control and there's no one else more capable to pull your team through this than you."

Emily rose to her feet at this, turning away from him so he wouldn't see how much she disagreed. She bit back the urge to beg him not to do this, and instead kept her voice unaffected. "Hotch, I can't force you to stay, I mean if that's what you think is best…" she said as she returned to pulling the content out of her bag. Anything to avoid meeting his gaze.

She almost jumped out of her skin when his fingers settled on her shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin of her neck as he turned her around to face him. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized he was standing much closer than she'd anticipated, with her nose just inches away from his chin. She didn't dare look up to meet his eyes. "Why am I really here, Emily?" he asked gently, but there was an intensity to his voice that grabbed at Emily's guts, squeezed and held in a tight grip.

She stepped past him and moved away from his touch to put some distance between them so she could breathe again. "I might know Doyle better than you do, Hotch," she started, her mind spinning to find a good reason that would convince him that she needed him here, "but I know him as an IRA terrorist and a weapons dealer – not as a serial killer. I need another profiler who isn't biased by prior notions, someone who can get into his head and predict his next moves. Those guys might be good at infiltration, but they're not trained to understand the way he thinks."

"Prentiss, I'm hardly unprejudiced here," Hotch replied.

Feeling composed enough now to look back at him, she caught him observing her again.

"You don't trust them. Porter and Snipe," he remarked. It was more a statement than a question.

"I don't trust _myself_!" Emily admitted quickly, before she could stop herself.

_But I trust you._

The unspoken words rang between them for a few long seconds as they gazed at each other.

He nodded slowly again, but his calm expression made her suspect that maybe he'd been trying to make her admit to something like that all along. He had obviously not bought her lie that she was ready. Was his threat of leaving just a big scheme to assess her psychological profile? To make her admit to herself that she couldn't do it alone? That should have angered her – and under different circumstances it would have made her furious - but for some reason it didn't this time. Maybe she was just too numb and tired to care, or maybe she knew deep down that confiding such feelings to him had always been therapeutic in the past.

Maybe that was the point. To make sure that she was aware of her self-doubts so that they wouldn't distract her when the time came. She had just admitted to needing someone, which she guessed was as good a proof as any that maybe she wasn't quite ready for all this yet. Her old self wouldn't have cared so much about him leaving, and more importantly, she wouldn't have been so scared to be on her own. What the hell was wrong with her? And when had he become that one person that she relied on more than anyone else?

She figured probably about three months ago.

He put his hands in his pockets again with a small shake of the head. "Okay. It was just an idea. I told you before that I'd watch your back if you wanted me to. I'll do that for as long as you need." His small shrug showed such vulnerability that it reassured Emily somewhat. "I'm just making sure that this is still what you want."

This time she met his eyes squarely. "It is."

"Good." He glanced around the room once. "I'll leave you to ah… settle, or whatever it is you said you needed to do in here. Good night." He went to leave. "Oh, and we've made a night watch schedule in case anybody contacts us. Yours starts at 4am."

Emily blew out a long breath as the door closed behind him and she dropped herself back onto the mattress.

* * *

><p>Emily felt somewhat rested and more poised when she went down for her watch. It was still pitch black outside, and the house felt damp and cold as she climbed down the stairs quietly. Because they didn't have blankets yet, before going to sleep Emily had put on a couple of layers of sweaters, in addition to her jacket, and it had kept her warm until she'd woken up. But now she was freezing. She still had a few minutes before she had to relay whoever she was relaying though, so she went to the kitchen and made some coffee. Hopefully that would both wake and warm her up.<p>

Holding her mug with both hands, she made her way to the surveillance room. The door was ajar and Emily could hear voices; she soon recognized Hotch's and Garcia's. She froze for a second, but then her curiosity got the best of her and she walked in quietly. Hotch threw her a quick look over the monitor, his hand raising up to halt her, as Garcia's chatter filled the silence of the room.

Emily sat on the other side of the table, behind the monitor so that Garcia wouldn't see her, and listened.

"…contacted the underground agents, but there's no sign of him yet. It seems a little strange that no one has spotted him in his usual spots. Sir… is it possible that he's not in Boston anymore?"

"We definitely have to be ready for that possibility. That's why we're hoping to locate Declan. If Doyle isn't here anymore, then we can wait for him where he expects to find his son."

"Do you think the others will be back in time?" Garcia asked.

"It's a kidnapping case, and if they haven't found anything within 48 hours..." Hotch shook his head. "Depending on how far ahead of us Doyle is in his search for his son, that might be just enough time. But that's why I need you guys to keep working on this in the meantime. We need to find him first."

"Yes sir."

"Is there anything else?" Hotch asked as he gathered his notes from his conversation.

"Do you think Prentiss is looking out for us?" Garcia asked suddenly, in a small voice that Emily knew oh too well.

Emily gasped and Hotch threw her a look. "I'm sure wherever she is, she's doing whatever she can," he replied truthfully.

She could almost picture Garcia's sad smile. "Yes sir, me too."

"Go get some rest Garcia. And good work."

"Thank you, sir."

Hotch ended the video conference connection and leaned back in his chair, looking at Emily a little absentmindedly.

"You should go get some sleep. You can still catch a few hours," Emily said softly. She had still barely recovered from the shock of hearing Garcia's question. It was like something was stuck at the base of her throat, but she couldn't deal with silence right now.

"Is there anymore of that?" he said instead, pointing to her coffee.

"Yeah, of course."

"Then I'll be right back," he said as he rose to his feet.

"Hotch you don't have to keep me company, you've done your watch. Go get some rest," Emily insisted.

"What if Garcia calls back?" He shrugged. "Besides, we have things to talk about," he said and at Emily's slightly wary expression added, "she's made some progress."

"Oh."

"I'll be right back."

While he was busy in the kitchen, Emily looked over his notes, but there were only disconnected words here and there, along with place names and possibly some addresses.

When he returned he grabbed the chair next to hers. Emily gave him a secretly appreciative look, there was just _something_ about this man out of his usual suit and with 24-hour worth of stubble… She quickly shook the thought away.

"So what has she got?" she asked.

"Not much on Doyle, but she was able to make some progress on finding Declan."

He took a sip of coffee, while Emily anxiously waited for him to go on. "Apparently, once he and his guardian got to Zurich, they made contact with the Irish embassy, maybe to ask for protection. Their trail seemed to stop there, but Mo was able to get access to the embassy's database. I'd rather not know how."

"He found them again?"

Hotch nodded as he took another sip. "Yes, they were apparently under governmental protection for a while, relocated and escorted by the Swiss police. I'm not entirely sure how they pulled that off. But anyways, they were relocated to this address in Zurich," he said as he showed her his notes. "Mo was able to contact the current owner of the house."

"They're not there anymore?" Emily asked.

"No. The owner said he'd moved in about 6 years ago, but he seemed to remember a blond-haired boy when he'd first visited the property."

Emily nodded slowly as she took this in. "So that means they could only have stayed there for a year or two at most. Do we know where they went?"

Hotch shook his head. "That's all we have for now, but the owner did remember them leaving a forward address. The name is different," he looked at his notes again, "a Mrs. Wagner, but that might be a new identity they were using to relocate. I ordered Garcia to get some rest, but Mo was supposed to get working on locating that forward address and look for any passport activity related to that name over the last 6 years."

"Man, those guys are amazing!" Emily said in awe, feeling for the first time that they might actually succeed in their mission. She felt excitement start bubbling in her stomach.

Hotch smiled a little. "Yes, that they are. However we do have to consider the possibility that Doyle might not be in Boston anymore."

Emily nodded. "Yeah, I heard that part. When the others wake up we'll have to figure out a way to get more information on where he might be. Start asking more direct questions."

Hotch nodded, but remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each sipping their coffee while Emily looked once more at the Boston maps, trying to think if she'd missed any of his favorite hideouts. With all the computers on, this was probably the warmest room in the house and Emily was starting to relax when Hotch spoke.

"I never asked you how your departure from Minnesota went."

Emily looked up from the map and met his eyes. She had tried to keep any thought related to that resolutely away for the moment, but now that he mentioned it, memories came flooding back. Had it only been just a few days since she'd dropped Ambassador off at her neighbors' house? She shrugged slightly. "It wasn't easy, you know? But it had to be done eventually."

He nodded in understanding. "You know, when I was there last fall and saw how you and the sheriff lived; quietly, comfortably, away from all the evil – at least when there are no serial killers in town," he added with a small smile in her direction. "I remember wishing my life was more like that."

Emily stared at him, a little speechless. As much as she tried, she just couldn't picture it. "You? No way! You'd get bored, you'd miss the protocol and the challenges, the constant chase, the constant adrenaline." She paused as she saw his slightly amused expression. "Wouldn't you?"

He tilted his head slightly. "I don't know. I love the Bureau and I love what I do, it's part of who I am and I've never been able to stay away in the past. But sometimes I wish I could take Jack away from it all. And I think I could learn to love it. _You _seem to have."

Emily considered this for a second as the Higginses' faces, golden leaves and lake ripples flashed in her mind. "I guess you're right. I never intended to, but I did grow to love it. It was…"

"Peaceful," they said at the same time, making them both look up in surprise. Emily smiled.

"Anyway, I'm not ready to do that now, but it made me think that there _is_ still that possibility."

Emily nodded, a little awed by this side of him. But the more she thought about it, and adding Jack to the picture, the more she could see it: father and son living in a small house by a lake, Hotch teaching Jack how to swim in summer, and skate in winter. It was a lovely picture.

"Have you thought about what you want to do when this is over?" he asked after a moment, and Emily noticed how he seemed to have no doubt whatsoever that they would get Doyle. She loved hearing the confidence in his voice, it made up where she was lacking.

Emily also realized that she hadn't actually thought about that, not in specific terms. Her goal for the last year or so had been to get to this day, but she had barely thought about what might happen afterwards, if she made it through this. Would she go back to the BAU? Would they even _want_ her back? Or try something else?

"Well, first order of business is to go get my dog," she said only half joking, "but beyond that…I don't know," she said truthfully. "The only thing I truly want is to stop moving in and out of people's lives. I'm done saying goodbye."

Emily was looking at her mug between her fingers, so she couldn't see his expression, but she felt him lean forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "Have you considered returning to the BAU?"

Emily's head snapped up in his direction. "Of course I have! I just- I wasn't sure…"

"It might not be up to me," he said as he stared at his cup between his fingers. He threw her a look. "But we'd be lucky to get you back." He straightened up. "I just thought I should tell you now, in case the CIA gives you a similar offer."

Emily smiled. "If I have to choose between the BAU and the CIA, it will be the easiest decision I'll ever have to make. I belong in the BAU. I've always thought so."

He looked a little relieved at this. "I agree."

Emily turned serious again as she looked down. "How am I ever going to tell them, Hotch? They're going to be _so_ mad."

He seemed to know whom she was talking about. "At first maybe. But they care about you. They'll understand. They're probably going to be angrier at _me_ for knowing and not telling."

"Still, I don't really see myself just showing up one day, 'hey guys, long time to no see, sorry for playing dead, it was for your own safety!'"

"I could… prepare them for it if you'd like," he suggested and Emily just wanted to hug him!

"Don't you think… Isn't that... I don't know, kind of cowardly?"

He gave her an amused look. "I think it's prudent. Who knows what Garcia might do when she sees you?"

Emily chuckled. It felt good to talk about the team like this, like she was really going to see them again soon. "I'm kind of expecting a beat up. Fluffy pens flying at my head."

"As you should, I think." He turned serious again. "It would truly make things easier if you told them sooner rather than later. Garcia's already named finding Declan 'Operation Prentiss,' I think they have a right to know, now that Doyle's attention is focused on something else."

Emily sighed, he was right. When the team returned to work on this, the operation should be about protecting Declan, not avenging Emily's death. Her feelings about this being unfair to them didn't seem to matter anymore, because she was starting to believe it when Hotch said that they _would_ get through this. She took a deep breath. "I'll tell them when they get back."

She had hidden long enough.

* * *

><p>AN: It doesn't really matter for the story, but it was never really clear to me whether Doyle's housekeeper was really Declan's mother, (maybe I just need to watch it again) but I've always thought it highly unlikely, even though the team referred to her as such. So here I'm assuming that she wasn't his mother, but his nanny or something like that, and that Emily made her Declan's guardian when she sent them on their way.

Stay tuned for some happy reunions…! :-)


	5. Learnign to Read Between the Lines

Told you I would update often :-) There will 14 chapters in total, including prologue and epilogue, and I'll try to have most of it uploaded within the next day or so!

I hope you're still enjoying the ride!

**Chapter 5: Learning to Read Between the Lines**

Hotch had to admit, he was grateful for the need to disguise himself. The wind blowing in from off-shore was chilly, carrying tiny snowflakes that swirled around towards the gray skies and never seemed to touch the ground. The heavy coat and hat were coming in handy as he and Porter tried to blend into the small crowds along the docks. Hotch pulled his hood lower over his face, trying to cover as much of his face as he could.

They had been asking questions around the harbor for a few hours now, after receiving some information about Doyle from one of Porter's underground contacts. One of the sailors had heard him say something about coming back to pick up the merchandise, so Hotch had volunteered to accompany Porter to investigate while Prentiss partnered up with Snipe to investigate other – probably warmer but riskier - avenues. It had been utterly strange to see her don a funky looking red-haired wig, but fortunately for him, Hotch's 'disguise' only consisted of a heavy flannel shirt and heavy coat, and, at Prentiss' suggestion, foregoing shaving for a few days. Doyle had never set eyes on either Porter or Snipe, so their only concern was to blend in whatever environment they would be working in.

"So what's the story?" Porter asked as they stood behind a bunker to escape the wind for a few minutes, while subtly observing the working men and women as they loaded and unloaded the huge cargo ships that came in.

"Sorry?" Hotch liked to imagine what this scene would have looked like two hundred years ago, without the machinery and computers, when foreign ships anchoring in this harbor weren't an everyday occurrence.

"Between you and Prentiss."

"What do you mean?" he asked distractedly.

The man beside him shrugged as he shifted on his feet. He looked cold. "You were on her list."

Finally processing the words and comprehending what he was referring to, Hotch turned to look at him curiously. Yes, he remembered Prentiss mentioning that very same list when they'd met last fall, explaining that she had made a list of people who would be told of her scheme to fake her death. Hotch had been on it, and honestly it had surprised him at first too. But how did Porter know? Or why did he care, for that matter?

Porter raised his hands defensively. "She told me, when I asked her how you knew the truth about her. But hey, it's none of my business, I know. But what can I say, my little heart fluttered at such a romantic gesture," he said sarcastically.

"You're right, it is none of your business," Hotch replied, ignoring the rest of Porter's comment, though a little confused as to what had made him ask in the first place. Was he developing some kind of crush on Prentiss? Was he checking to see if she was already taken? Or had he noticed something in their behavior that might suggest… something more?

Admittedly, since that cool October night when he and Prentiss had talked by the lake, Hotch had wondered – a lot – about Emily Prentiss, and about what had been said- verbally and not. He still remembered how bemused, but to his surprise also deeply thrilled, he had been when she had touched his cheek affectionately, almost as a promise of something else. He hadn't dared ask what she meant by it at the time, and he doubted the moment would ever present itself again to resolve the mystery. He had always been drawn to her and to her witty personality – and had always resisted it - but he had never truly considered the possibility of something more until that night, until he had held her in his arms, twice, as he offered her what little comfort he could. At that moment it had become obvious to him that whatever happened afterwards, they wouldn't be able to quite go back to their previous strictly professional relationship. The balance of power had shifted, and there was no way to set it back.

He'd realized as she revealed bits of herself that night that the more he discovered the more he longed to uncover. She was a mystery like no other woman in his life had ever been – he had even told her that himself that night. She intrigued him, now more than ever.

But that didn't matter now. Prentiss had obviously other, more important things on her mind and besides, she intended on coming back to the BAU so any thought along those lines had to be buried once more. If the plan to get her reinstated worked they would find themselves at square one again, she on the team and Hotch's undivided attention back onto his son. So he had to stop entertaining those ideas, they would only distract him. Hell, it was already starting to distract him: he had almost slipped last night, stepping maybe a little too close to her and his fingers touching her neck, but she had quickly evaded his touch. He hadn't meant it as anything at the time, he'd only wanted to get her to talk, but she had quickly put some distance between them. It was probably for the best.

"Alright man, forget I asked. Ready?" Porter said, bringing Hotch back to the task at hand.

"Let's go," he agreed.

After another hour or so, they figured they wouldn't get more out of questioning the sailors and harbor employees, so they decided to head back to headquarters, empty handed. Someone had apparently done some shopping for the house, as they had food to last for a couple of days and blankets were piled up on the kitchen table. Prentiss and Snipe were not back yet, so he and Porter went to the surveillance room to get in touch with their respective people. Porter called Snipe first, getting an update on his and Emily's situation in the streets and favorite mob spots of South Boston – but they were as empty-handed as Hotch and Porter. Apparently whatever he was doing, Doyle wasn't interested in frequenting those circles anymore.

"I told them to head back," Porter said as he hung up and Hotch rose to his feet to look at the Boston and New England maps that they were now pinned to the wall. Where the hell was Doyle? He had to be staying _somewhere_, but wherever he was he was probably paying in cash, so there was no quick way to track his movements across towns – or states. Was he already on the move?

His BAU phone rang and Hotch picked it up quickly, his eyes still riveted to the maps.

"Hotchner."

"What's that case on my desk, Agent Hotchner?" Erin Strauss' disapproving voice rang in his ear. Hotch heaved a sigh. What could she possibly have against the team taking this case?

"It's our next case. I'm clearing the team to work on it when they get back."

She sighed, but it sounded a bit affected to his ear. "I understand your team's desire to take this case, Aaron, really I do. I realize Agent Prentiss' death has been hard, but this is hardly an operation for the BAU!"

Hotch took a calming breath. "With all due respect, I disagree. This has little to do with Agent Prentiss," he said, earning a curious look from Porter who was still sitting at the computer, "except in that we're willing to finish what she started in protecting the boy. And if I remember correctly, Ian Doyle is still on the FBI's list of wanted criminals. He's a sociopath, who not only killed one of our best agents, but also murdered several families last year. This is as much a BAU case as anything else."

She kept silent for a moment, considering his words. "Are you positive that you're not putting your team at risk just to avenge Emily Prentiss' death?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am."

"I don't like this, Aaron," she said in a more personal tone. He knew what she was doing: she generally used that particular, motherly tone when her authority wasn't enough to make him sway, but that one had never worked either.

Hotch pursed his lips and stayed silent, unflinching.

"We'll talk about this later," she said at last, clearly unhappy.

"Have a good day," Hotch said simply before he hung up, shaking his head.

"That sounds like trouble…" Porter said.

"It's nothing to worry ab-"

His phone rang again, but Hotch was relieved when he saw the caller id. "Dave, how's it going?" he asked as he left the room, walking to the kitchen to make some coffee as he talked.

"We're finishing up over here. How are _you_ doing?"

"Good, it's slow going though. We still have nothing on Doyle. When are you flying back?"

"In an hour or so. We'll fly directly to Boston so we can get right on it." Dave sighed. "Doyle again, huh? I sure hope we'll catch the son of a bitch this time."

"Me too. How are the others feeling about this?"

Dave lowered his voice - apparently he wasn't alone. "Antsy, excited, worried… Sad."

Hotch nodded even though Dave couldn't see it. Such feelings were to be expected. "Let me know when you get here, we'll set up a meeting. I think I have something that'll cheer them up."

"Whatever it is, I think they'll need it. I'll talk to you in a few hours."

"Bye Dave."

As soon as he pocketed his phone again, Prentiss and Snipe walked in, the former looking edgy, if not a little angry.

"He's gone," she said briskly as she took off her coat and shoes and walked next to him by the counter to get a mug, her movements abrupt.

"Doyle?" he asked with a quick look in Snipe's direction, who acknowledged his look, but then went to get Porter from the surveillance room.

"Just as we were about to leave, we ran into an ATF agent working undercover in the Irish mob." She let out an incredulous chuckle. "An ATF agent, can you believe that? It was pure damn luck. Anyway, It took a while for him to talk, but he confirmed hearing something about Doyle leaving town. It was hearsay, but at this point I'm ready to believe it. We should have spotted him by now if he was around here."

"I agree," Porter said as he and Snipe came back to join them. "He might be expecting to come back here once he's found his kid, but he's not here. Who votes to stay around here and wait for him to come back?" he paused. "Thought so," he added when nobody said anything. "So what's the next step?"

"The ATF guy mentioned something about him going south, but he couldn't be more specific," Snipe chimed in.

"That's a whole lot of south to cover, my friend…" Porter said wryly.

"Have we heard anything from Mo and Garcia?" Prentiss interrupted as she poured herself some coffee.

"They checked in with us a couple of hours ago," Hotch replied. "But they were still working on tracking down the Wagners. Apparently it's a popular name."

Hotch then told them about Dave's call. He kept his eyes on Emily as he related the conversation, and he wasn't disappointed to see her react when he told them about the meeting they'd be setting up with the team. She met his eyes briefly, but then merely nodded, biting her cheek.

"At this point finding Declan might be our best shot," she said, sounding a little resigned, but her voice was strong. "Alright, here's what we're going to do," she said with newfound confidence as she pushed herself from the counter and perched herself on the table instead. "Hotch and I will meet up with the BAU team," Porter and Snipe exchanged looks at that, "but I want you guys to dig deeper with our ATF guy. Track down _his _informant, and then the one after that, and so on. Follow those relationships until you learn more, got it?"

"Got it," Porter replied.

"Let's get something to eat, take a break, then get back to it," she clapped her hands once and Hotch couldn't help but smile.

"We'll try to get in touch with our other contacts, and set everything up for tonight," Porter said before he and Snipe walked back to the surveillance room.

"Great," she said she took a sip of coffee, crossing her legs at the ankles. She turned to Hotch. "In the meantime, you and I will- What?" she said when she noticed his expression.

Was he still smiling? He gave a small shrug. "Nothing. You're good at this Prentiss, you're a good leader."

"Really?" She gave an incredulous chuckle. "Most of the time I feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing. These guys probably only put up with me because they were ordered to."

Hotch shook his head. "Well, they respect you, that much is obvious. And that's all you need. Anyways, what was it you wanted us to do?"

"How useful are you in the kitchen?" she asked as she jumped off the table. She seemed in a much better mood for some reason, but Hotch wondered how much of it was real. She was so good at hiding what she truly felt that he didn't know anymore. It was ironic, because when she'd been at the BAU he remembered thinking that she was the most expressive person he knew – he'd always been able to read her like an open book. But now he realized that he'd have to learn to read between the lines.

He smiled at the challenge. "I can hold my own."

"Then let's get to work."

* * *

><p>They were mostly silent as they worked at putting a quick meal together; boiling pasta, reheating sauce, chopping some vegetables. Hotch was about to ask about her plan to meet the BAU when Snipe came back and offered to help. With him present, Hotch decided it might be best to wait for that conversation until they were alone. Hotch was instinctively aware of the emotional turmoil that meeting the team would put her through, but the two spies didn't need to know about Prentiss' insecurities.<p>

She could deny it all she wanted, Hotch could tell that she wasn't as confident as she wanted everyone to think. Her admission about not trusting herself the night before had been kind of a breakthrough in his self-assigned quest to make her face her demons before she encountered Ian Doyle again. The guilt he felt at forcing her to face her feelings was nothing compared to his dread that unresolved issues might make her act recklessly in the future. As the old adage went, revenge was best served cold – he knew that better than anyone – and they all needed Prentiss to be the composed and confident leader he knew she could be, not the desperate spy who had worked alone with nothing to lose.

She would probably be furious at him if she ever found out what he was trying to do, but Hotch was determined: it had to be done. As patronizing as it sounded, it was for her own good, and for the rest of her team's, himself included.

Just as they were getting ready to eat, Porter called them to the surveillance room: Mo and Garcia were calling. Hotch noticed how Emily remained out of sight of the webcam again.

"What have you got?" Hotch asked as they all stood, looking down at the video feed.

Mo opened his mouth to speak but Garcia beat him to it. "More good stuff, sir, I think you'll like it."

Hotch met Prentiss' eyes over the monitors - she was biting her lips, but he could tell she was trying to keep her excitement in check. She leaned and rested both hands flat on the table, anxiously waiting for more.

"We've found the Wagners," Mo started. "My search for passports under those names was fruitful. I ran the list of possible names and passport photos through my- _our_ recognition database," he said with a quick look at Garcia. "It took a while because, well, kids grow up and I wasn't sure what he might look like, but here's what I found."

Two passport photos appeared on the screen, one of a boy in his early teens and an older woman that Hotch recognized as the boy's guardian.

"I only wish Prentiss was here to confirm that it's really him," Garcia said and once more Hotch threw Prentiss a quick look. Her eyes had turned sad at Garcia's comment, but otherwise she kept still. He subtly pushed the key to shut down the camera, turned the monitor to her and watched her expression.

Her eyes widened, and she nodded.

He turned the monitors around again, and switched the camera back on.

"Oh, we thought we'd lost you, sir," Garcia said.

"Sorry, a little glitch on our side," Porter said. "It certainly looks like him, guys. We'll assume that it is. Where is he?"

"We don't know yet. Their last passport activity was four years ago, when they traveled back to the US. They landed at Raleigh-Durham International Airport in North Carolina," Mo explained.

"We're still working on it," Garcia assured them. "But at least that means he's probably still in the US."

"Good work, let us know as soon as you know more," Hotch said.

"We will," Mo replied before he ended the connection.

The room was completely silent for a few minutes as they all considered this new information, until Prentiss spoke.

"Let's eat guys, for now this doesn't change any of our plans. We still need to figure out what the hell Doyle is up to," she said before she left the room.

Hotch was lost in thought as they all sat down at the table and started their meal. There had to be a way to track Doyle down – the man wasn't impervious to having to eat, and having to sleep. For that he needed money, or contacts willing to help him out, but his closest associates had been killed in the raid to rescue Prentiss. In the past he'd relied on the Boston Irish mob, but he seemed to have moved on from that now.

"How does he do it?" Hotch asked out loud. "How can he find out where Declan is? His most trusted associates are dead, and I doubt he makes friends that easily. He has to either have access to some money, or be offering something in exchange for people helping him out. Does he have any computer or hacking abilities?"

Prentiss shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Then how does he do it?" Hotch shook his head. "We've been chasing him in the dark with our arms outstretched hoping we'll hit something, but we don't have time for that kind of long-term infiltration."

"What do you suggest?" Snipe asked.

"I think it's time we start really profiling him. If we figure out _how_ he's doing it, what trail he's following, it'll take us to him."

"Okay… where do we start?" Porter asked.

Prentiss beat him to an answer, and Hotch appreciated the initiative. It seemed natural, somehow, that she would know where he was going with this. "Here, in Boston. This is where he's comfortable, where he knows people. Obviously he's been laying low, but if you guys can figure out tonight who he's been talking to and what _they_ might know about his son, then we'll get a ring of connections and we'll be able to understand what information he's been piecing together."

The agents nodded.

"There's another avenue we can try as well," she added as she turned in Hotch's direction. "I'm the one who organized Declan's departure from the country, but to do that I had to pull some strings and contact a couple of Irish undercover agents that I knew from a previous mission."

"You think Doyle might have found out about them somehow?"

"It's worth giving it a shot."

"Then we'll start there," Hotch agreed and Emily gave him a small smile.

And he finally understood why she'd wanted him here.

* * *

><p>After dinner Snipe and Porter left for their mission, while Hotch helped Prentiss set up a board in the surveillance room. She wrote down everything she remembered about the two agents she had contacted 7 years ago; one had been in Dublin at the time and the other in Boston. She hadn't trusted them, but she had paid them good money for one of them to escort Declan and his guardian to Zurich, and the other to travel to Zurich and make sure that they made it there.<p>

They discussed how Doyle could have possibly found them – it would have been impossible without some kind of prior knowledge - so the only thing that made sense was if one of them had decided to contact Doyle, maybe blackmail him, telling him about his son in exchange for money, or something to that effect. Satisfied with this assumption, she suddenly left the room, her disposable phone to her ear, and minutes later their computer buzzed with incoming data, including the two agents' files. Hotch wondered what Prentiss had said to get such fast access, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask. She sat down at the computer and opened the files, Hotch bending over to look over her shoulder, distracted for a second by the smell of her hair.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" she cried and Hotch followed her gaze to the file.

'Status_: Deceased_.'

Hotch frowned as he perused the file. Both agents had recently been killed in action; one about two weeks ago, and the other a month ago, both showing similar signs of torture and styles of execution.

"Emily, this has to be it. Do these files contain all of the agents' aliases? We can have Garcia find out what they were up to at the moment of their death, and track down their accounts."

"Yeah," she scrolled down several pages, "here it is," she said in a small voice as she rose from the chair and sharply moved away, her hands rubbing over her face, and then through her hair. She looked suddenly anxious, her breathing shallow as she started pacing a little.

Hotch kept his eyes on her, a little concerned. "You okay?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah. I'm fine. It's just-" She shook her head, swallowing hard. She looked nauseous. "Never mind."

"What is it?" he asked stubbornly.

She shook her head again. "It's nothing, I just-" she gestured to the screen. "I just had a flashback. It'll pass."

Hotch's heart hit his toes as he realized what was going on – the torture. Why hadn't he realized? The files had described burning and scarring of the flesh, and one of the agents had had a gunshot wound to his knee. He'd never truly known what had happened to her that night as the doctors had not released her medical record, but they had all known that torture was a possibility. She had been the stresser, they had expected him to take his time. God, what had he done to her?

"Prentiss…" Hotch said helplessly as he took a step in her direction, but her raised hand stopped him.

She gave him a shaky smile. "Hotch, it's fine, really. Just call Garcia." She cleared her throat again. "We're making some progress here."

Hotch observed her quietly for a few more seconds; she still looked shaken, but her breathing slowly returned to normal after she sat down and held her head in her hands, so he went back to the monitor and called the two analysts, updating them on what they were looking for and forwarding them the data they'd just received from Langley.

After he ended the connection, he joined Prentiss in her quiet and intensely focused contemplation of their board and stood next to her, arms crossed over his chest and the back of his fingers absentmindedly stroking the growing stubble on his jaw. This had to be it; this was the only way that Doyle could have known where to start his search for his son. Apart from Emily, those two agents were the only ones who had been aware of the whole story, even the other JTF agents had not known about Doyle's son. Now, if only they could-

"He burned a four-leaf clover over my heart," Prentiss said suddenly, her voice low and flat, as if it wasn't really her doing the talking.

Hotch's head snapped in her direction, but she was still looking straight ahead, her brow furrowed in concentration. He closed his eyes as he imagined what that must have been like… He reached for her hand tentatively, not entirely sure whether she would accept his touch. His forefinger grazed her little finger, and seeing that she didn't pull away, he slowly intertwined their fingers loosely and squeezed gently.

The gesture seemed to snap her out of her memory and she threw him a quick, grateful smile. "You're the first person I've told. But I told myself that when this'd be over, I would get the most beautiful tattoo to cover it. A butterfly, or a phoenix maybe? Reborn from its own ashes… that sounds fitting, doesn't it?" She shrugged. "Maybe in time I'll be able to not remember."

Hotch listened quietly, nodding at her choice of words. She was right, one could never _forget_ something like that, but they could definitely learn to live with it and not let it consume their lives. Hotch for one, was only starting to not see Foyet's face when he happened to glance at the scars across his stomach. "It'll take time, but I'm sure you will. Maybe not forget entirely, but one day you'll realize that you can't remember exactly what it felt like, and then you'll learn to think about that moment without associating it with pain and fear, accepting it in order to move on."

She moved to stand a little closer - as if understanding that he wasn't talking just about her - her other hand coming to close over their intertwined ones, but she remained silent. They stood like that for a long moment, both lost in their own memories and Hotch relished in the warmth of her side against his and the strength of her fingers intertwined with his. He wished he could offer her more, but she seemed content with the simple reassurance that he _understood_.

He missed the contact when she stepped away and disentangled their fingers with one final squeeze, going back to leaning against the table behind her as her eyes returned to the board.

"When do you want us to meet with the team?" she asked eventually.

He looked at his watch. "Their plane should touch down in about an hour." He turned to look down at her. "Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess." She sighed before she looked up at him. "Is it silly that it makes me really nervous?"

"No, it's not silly."

She chuckled softly, though he wasn't sure why it seemed to amuse her. "Okay. What are you going to tell them to prepare them?"

They talked about how they would play this for a while and it really helped lightening the mood between them. Hotch could still hear her disconnected voice as she'd told him what Doyle had done - the memory of it still made his stomach knot painfully. So he was grateful for the lighthearted conversation and even slight joking as they talked about the people they most cared about. After a while she left to go take a shower, and when she came back it was time to go.

The team had arrived in Boston.

* * *

><p>Hotch felt a little strange walking the halls of the Boston FBI office unshaven and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, but it hadn't occurred to him to change until he and Prentiss had entered the building and the security guard had given him a dubious look. Because of that it had taken a little more time to get Prentiss a visitor's pass – she was apparently still traveling as Emmeline Pollard, the CIA didn't carry credentials, after all.<p>

They waited for a few minutes for the team to arrive while they traveled from the airport to downtown, and when someone came to announce that they were there, Hotch left Prentiss with a reassuring nod, and walked across to the adjoining room.

"Well, look at you," Dave said with a teasing smile as Hotch greeted him with a handshake.

"Sorry about that. I hope you've all had a few hours to rest?" he asked as he greeted everyone with nods. To his surprise they all looked strangely hyper, so Hotch asked them all to sit down as he prepared to brief them. His thoughts went to Prentiss, alone in the adjoining room, probably pacing back and forth or biting her nails anxiously. She had been doing both while they'd both been waiting for the team to make it to the office. That is until he had taken her hand again. It had seemed to calm her.

Hotch had Seaver call Garcia on her computer so that she was also part of the meeting. She greeted the team happily, if a little tiredly, and he noticed that Mo wasn't present – it was probably his turn to rest. It was no wonder she was tired – she and Mo had been juggling three different assignments almost non-stop for the last forty-eight hours.

"I know you're probably all wondering what's going on, and we all know that time is of the essence. Before I tell you about the case however, there's something else I need to talk to you about." He closed the door.

They exchanged curious glances.

He took a deep breath. "The night that Prentiss… left," he hesitated, "we learned that Ian Doyle had a son who had apparently died years before, killed execution style. It turns out that Prentiss had faked the pictures so that the boy could be free from a life with his father while also hiding him from numerous agencies who wished to get their hands on him."

"The boy's still alive?" Morgan asked, sounding a little relieved. Hotch thought he could understand – that meant Prentiss had not pulled the trigger after all. He'd felt that same relief the day before.

"Yes he is. Prentiss was the only one to know about him and about his faked death. She sent him on a plane and never saw him again. But when Garcia's alerts alerted us to Doyle's return, it became a priority to find him again, as well as the boy in order to keep him safe from his father. With Garcia's help and agents from the CIA, we've been trying to track him down, both of them, actually."

Morgan stopped him. "Wait, if Prentiss was the only one to know, how did you and the CIA learn about all this?"

Hotch looked down at his feet for a second before returning his gaze to his team. "I'm glad you ask, because-"

And then everything happened at once; the adjoining door swung open and Prentiss walked in, stopping abruptly when she met Hotch's gaze. "I was sick of waiting," she said directly at him, while Morgan and Dave jumped to their feet in surprise, the movement making Morgan's chair topple over behind him, Garcia started shrieking, screaming words that he couldn't make out – were they insults or declarations of joy? – and Reid sat open-mouthed through the commotion. Only Seaver was smiling broadly, apparently happy by the turn of events.

There was a confused chorus of "Prentiss!" "Oh my God!" "No way!" amidst Garcia's frantic monologue.

Seaver was the first to snap out of her surprise – which was understandable, given that she already knew the truth – and she quickly made her way over to Prentiss and hugged her warmly, and exchanged a few quick words that Hotch couldn't hear with everything going on. By the time they were done, Reid was also standing, and Garcia was still talking uninterrupted, demanding explanations about what was going on and threatening bad things if they didn't answer her. Dave followed Seaver and stopped to look at her in the eyes for a couple of seconds, until he laughed, with a 'Yeah!' and raised his hands to each side of her neck, squeezing slightly, then pulled her in for a powerful hug. Emily started laughing, and Hotch, who was now standing slightly to the side, had to look away as tears started to mingle with her smiles. Dave pulled back, patting her cheek slightly before standing slightly aside. Reid was next, standing before her a little awkwardly.

"I don't understand, how…?" he asked as Emily hugged him close and patted his back.

"I know you guys probably have a lot of questions," she said over his shoulder, her voice wavering as she both laughed and cried at once. When Reid pulled away, Hotch saw her exchange a look with Morgan. The younger man still looked stunned, standing still with both hands on his head in a gesture of incredulity, but Hotch couldn't tell if he was angry or merely stunned.

"Derek," Prentiss said softly, almost pleadingly, and Hotch looked down at his feet, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. It took a few more seconds before Morgan finally sighed and bridged the gap between them, grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a hug.

"Emily Prentiss I hate you right now," he said against her shoulder and it made her chuckle, though it was still mixed with small sobs.

"I know. I'm sorry." She pulled back and walked to the computer so that Garcia could see her. "I'm so sorry, guys…" she repeated.

"Emily Prentiss, you can't run away from me! Wait 'til I get my hands on you!" Garcia threatened, but Hotch noticed that she too was both crying and laughing at the same time.

"I won't even try to. Not ever again," Prentiss promised as she straightened and tried to dry her eyes as best she could before turning back around to face the others.

Hotch decided it was probably a good moment to intervene, though he himself was still moved by the scene he'd just witnessed and was still trying to find his composure. He cleared his throat. "I know you probably all have a lot of questions, and Prentiss and I are hoping that the briefing will answer most of them, but time is of the essence, so we do need to focus on the task at hand for now." He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

She cleared her throat and dried her eyes as best as she could as she moved to half sit on the desk beside him while the others took back their seats, though the atmosphere in the room was suddenly vibrating with excitement. "As you all know about a year ago, Ian Doyle, a man I'd worked to profile as an undercover CIA agent, came back to retaliate against my team and myself. But what most people do _not_ know is that that night I revealed to him that his son, Declan, was still alive…"

* * *

><p>End chapter 5<p> 


	6. Waiting for the Other Shoe

**Chapter 6: Waiting for the Other Shoe**

Emily was exhausted.

The last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster, and tonight was just the last straw – though she had a feeling it wasn't quite over yet, it wouldn't be until she'd faced Doyle again. The meeting with the team was in its second hour when a call from Porter distracted her. She felt five pairs of eyes follow her as she excused herself to the adjoining room to take the call.

It turned out that Porter and Snipe had been persuasive enough for the ATF guy to divulge the name and location of his informant – and Emily didn't ask questions about what persuasive meant in this case. The informant in question was apparently a 'low-life car thief' (in Porter's words) with small ties with the mob whom Doyle had paid good money in exchange for finding him a car, just the day before. According to Porter, the 'scumbag' didn't remember the license plate, but he did know the model, color and year of the vehicle – he had stolen it after all.

"We'll get Mo and Garcia on reports of stolen vehicles," Emily said, feeling like they seriously needed to increase their number of tech analysts.

She re-entered the briefing room to notice that Hotch had apparently called the meeting to an end and everyone was gathering their stuff. She quickly updated them on what was going on and felt a little thrill at calling Garcia herself, who had reluctantly gone back to work about an hour and a half ago.

"Anything for you, my sweet!" she said when Emily was done with her updated assignment. Her cheerfulness made her wonder how in the world her friends were not angrier with her. She figured it would come in time, after they got over the basic fact that she was alive and remembered what she had put them through.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Reid asked as she was starting to say her goodnights.

Emily exchanged a look with Hotch who was watching her quietly.

"Not yet," she replied as her gaze returned to Reid. "As soon as Garcia and Mo find out more about Declan, I need you guys to focus on finding him and keeping him away from Doyle."

"We know that, we've just spent hours talking about it, but what are _you_ going to do?" Morgan asked.

She exchanged a look with Hotch again, then took a deep breath. "Finish what I started," she said simply before she walked out of the room.

Hotch caught up with her as she waited for the elevator, and Emily couldn't help smiling to herself a little. She had wondered whether he would stay with the team or not, but she was glad that for some reason he was still sticking with her. He had promised he would watch her back, but Emily was still amazed that he'd actually meant it.

"I think it went rather well," he commented as the elevator doors closed, leaving the statement open, like a question.

Emily smiled tiredly. "Too well. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Hotch shook his head, but Emily saw that he was smiling too. A small smile, at the corner of his lips. God, he had a beautiful smile! "There isn't going to be any shoe dropping. Whatever happens where their reaction is concerned, it'll be nothing compared to what you had to do just now."

Emily sighed. "I hope you're right."

They kept silent after that, and Emily was content to simply bask in her feelings of joy and excitement. She knew she would have to snap out of it soon enough and start focusing again – compartmentalize - but for the moment, just for a few more minutes, she was determined to make the most of that short burst of happiness and enjoy it while it lasted. So she couldn't stop smiling as they walked to the car, nor as she settled in the passenger seat. She was still smiling when they got to headquarters and went in, earning some amused looks from Hotch along the way.

The house had finally reached a decent temperature, so Emily took off her jacket. Though exhausted, she was still wired with nervous energy, so she started making some tea as Hotch turned on some lights and went to check on the surveillance room.

"Porter and Snipe aren't back yet," he stated as he came back.

"Yeah I don't expect them back for another couple of hours," Emily said as she plugged in the kettle, then threw him a look over her shoulders. "You should go to bed, you barely slept last night." His watch had been just before hers, so that meant he couldn't have slept for more than a couple hours.

"I can wait until they get back," he suggested, but Emily could tell that he was exhausted.

She smiled and shook her head. "Seriously, go get some sleep. I'll let you know if anything happens. I'm too hyper to sleep anyway." She turned around to face him and leaned against the counter behind her. He was watching her quietly in his usual straightforward way, but the jeans, the shirt and the beard made him look more… approachable, more relaxed somehow. Emily found herself rather fond of that rugged look on him. God he was a handsome man!

"Are you sure?"

Emily smiled. "Positive."

"Very well, good night, then," he said as he turned on his heels.

"Hotch!" she stopped him before he left the room, turning serious.

Emily wrung her hands for a second, feeling suddenly a little breathless. "Thanks," She said seriously, tilting her head. "For pushing me to tell them the truth."

He smiled in acknowledgement briefly. He seemed to consider saying more as he held her gaze, but then nodded. "Make sure you wake me if anything happens?"

Emily watched him leave, biting her lip absentmindedly.

He had been her anchor these last few days; the one thing that she could hold on to when she doubted everything else, and she felt like she would never be able to thank him enough for being there for her, for supporting her crazy scheme with the sangfroid and aplomb she'd found herself lacking lately. But now that they were finally getting somewhere with the mission, and that she'd gotten her fear to face her friends off her chest, she felt much more poised and in control. She could do this. She _would_ do this.

She could finally recognize glimpses of herself again.

She went back to the surveillance room, sipping her tea, and sat down. As much as she appreciated Hotch's company and support, it felt good to be alone with her thoughts for a moment; she needed to process everything that had happened over the last few days. Flashes of her meeting with the team swirled through her mind, making her smile. She could still feel Dave's powerful arms surrounding her or hear Garcia's screaming at her a little crazily through her webcam. Reid and Seaver had acted exactly as she had predicted they would and she grinned as she remembered Reid's shy smile. She had been worried about Morgan's reaction, and in a way she was still dreading that other shoe - which according to Hotch was nonexistent - to hit her in the head. But everything in its own time, she told herself. For now they'd all seemed happy enough to see her, she could worry about any delayed anger later.

It was still kind of amazing to her how much closer she and Hotch had grown lately. It had probably started when they'd reunited unexpectedly in her small Minnesota town, but him coming to Boston had shown Emily a whole new side of him, one that didn't shy away from affectionate gestures, and even seemed to encourage them. That had been totally unexpected! If she was honest with herself, Emily had assumed that they would just go back to their previous relationship as if their unexpected meeting had never happened, and until very recently she had played it that way: detached, professional. As if they had never hugged. As if she had never touched his cheek, or opened up herself and revealed things to him that she hadn't even admitted to herself. But apparently Hotch had different ideas, and as they spent more time in each other's company, they'd seemed to pretty much pick up where they'd left off.

Not that she was complaining.

She was a little confused about what he meant by it, though. Hotch wasn't the flirting type, and she had always figured that his approach to women would be the same as anything else in his life: a mix of straightforwardness and controlled passion. She had assumed that if he really got his mind to it, he would make it very clear what it was he wanted. But so far his touch had been for comfort and support only, and Emily wondered if maybe that was just him being a friend to her. Now that he wasn't really acting as her boss, he was free to show friendship in any way he wanted and maybe that was just the result of this, combined with their growing closer over the last few days. And now that she knew of his desire to have her back on the team when this was over, she was a little reluctant to push the issue.

On the other hand, she remembered thinking during her long months as Emmeline Pollard how much she'd wished she could have a second chance with him, just to see the potential, just to see where it could lead if he was interested. And now she couldn't help feeling that maybe this _was_ her second chance, maybe she should just make the most of it while she still could, before he became her boss once more. It was a scary and heady thought, and sometimes when they gazed at each other or when his fingers grazed her skin she could feel the pull of desire in her stomach, the temptation to just take the first step. To hell with the consequences. How would he react if she joined him in his room now?

However another part of her – the rational part - reminded her that this would only be one more distraction that she didn't need. They were getting closer to finding Doyle, she felt it in her gut, and she couldn't afford to miss a sign because she was mooning over her former boss, no matter how delightful he looked in casual clothes.

She was startled from her thoughts by the sound of the Porter and Snipe coming back, so she went to greet them. They quickly updated her on what happened – which was not much after they'd talked to the guy who'd stolen a car for Doyle.

"Any news on that yet?" Porter asked as he dropped himself on a chair with a long sigh and leaned back.

"Not yet. I'm expecting news any moment now."

Porter nodded. "How did your meeting go?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

"Good. It was good. I think we've been making some progress."

"So the BAU knows the truth about you now, huh?"

She nodded, but wondered a little about where he was going with this. "Yeah, I mean it's not official yet, but it was about time I stopped hiding from them."

He nodded but kept silent, so Emily quickly changed the subject and updated them to what she and Hotch had found out about the two agents that had been killed recently. Once more they were relying on Garcia and Mo to find something fast, and Emily felt like they were really stretching those guys thin. But hopefully it would all be over soon.

As if on cue, they heard the beeping sound of an incoming call from the surveillance room, so they all jumped to their feet. Emily felt a little thrill at showing herself in front of the camera and opening the connection.

It was Mo.

"We've got some updates on- well, pretty much everything," he started. "Garcia's calling her BAU team as we speak."

"I'll go get Hotch," Emily said as she dashed from the room and climbed the stairs two at a time until she reached Hotch's closed door. She hesitated for a second, blushing at her earlier thought, but then she shook her head and knocked. There was no answer, so she knocked again. Nothing. She opened the door a little bit, the light from the corridor allowing her to see in the otherwise dark room. His breathing was slow and deep and she felt bad for waking him up from such a deep sleep, but this was important. She approached the bed quietly, not wanting to startle him, once more calling his name, then touching his shoulder when that didn't work.

This time he startled awake, grabbing her wrist so fast she didn't see it coming and pulling her a little towards him. Emily stumbled and stopped her fall with her elbow on his chest.

"Prentiss?" he asked as he looked up at her, his eyes finally focusing.

"It's me, sorry, but we have Mo ready for an update downstairs," she breathed, still somewhat stunned by his instinctive self-defense move.

"Right… I'll be right there," he said as he relaxed, letting go of her wrist.

Emily straightened up and made her way back downstairs. About thirty seconds later Hotch was back among them and Emily couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten dressed with jeans and a fleece, instead of the t-shirt and sweatpants he'd been sleeping in. She shook the flash of memory away and focused on Mo.

"Alright, who do you want to start with, Doyle or his kid?'

"Doyle," Emily said – the others could focus on Declan.

"Right. So we followed the stolen car lead, and we were able to narrow down the possible stolen cars based on that guy's description to two vehicles. We've got the license plates, and Garcia has already put out an APB for those two vehicles. No hits yet. But here's the juicy part. We looked at those two agents you told us about and that's where the money was, my friends. In fact, I think we hit the jackpot."

Emily leaned closer to the camera, unable to contain her growing excitement.

"So one of the agents – real last name Banks - received a huge wad of Euros in his bank account only hours before he was reported KIA, which fits the theory that he might have been blackmailing Doyle or possibly doing some research for him. But the juicy part is that this particular bank account is still being used, as we speak, which is strange because according to his will, he doesn't have a whole lot of relatives who would be authorized to use it after his death."

Hotch walked closer at this, apparently now wide-awake, as he exchanged a long look with her. Oh this _had_ to be it!

"Doyle is using that account to travel around?" Hotch asked.

"That's our guess, yes! We've tracked some withdrawals all the way from Zurich to Boston. It's got to be him!"

Emily nodded with enthusiasm. "Where is he now?"

Mo smiled. "That's the beautiful thing, my friends. He's been stopping for gas regularly along I95S, always paying with the same debit card to Banks' account. Last one was just outside Philadelphia, about an hour ago."

Snipe grabbed a map with a broader range and quickly spread it out over the table.

"Where is he heading?" Emily asked to herself as Porter and Snipe looked at it carefully.

"Well, here's another beautiful thing," Mo went on, "we've also found Declan. He's still in North Carolina, Raleigh to be more precise."

Emily grinned. "Mo I swear to God I would kiss you right now if you were in this room!"

He smirked. "I'll collect that when we see each other again."

"So if he was just in Philadelphia, he's about halfway there. How much time does that leave us?" Hotch asked.

"Just google-mapped it for you, five to six hours, depending on where he is now," Mo replied. "I'm emailing you Declan's address, Agent Hotchner."

"Great work, Mo! Update us as soon as Doyle uses the card again," Emily urged.

"Will do."

She ended the connection and turned to her team. "Let's go!"

* * *

><p>There was no time to pack much, so Emily just grabbed her ready-bag and met with the others downstairs. Snipe and Hotch were quickly packing laptops and other surveillance equipment they might need, while Porter was focusing on weapons. They didn't have time to pack everything, so he would have to make some decisions, but Emily trusted him with that. They could leave the rest of the stuff and send someone for it later.<p>

Seconds after Mo had hung up, Hotch had received a call from Dave, saying that they would be on their way to North Carolina within the hour.

They were back in the cargo plane and off the ground about half an hour after Mo's call. About three hours later they were setting up their surveillance equipment in a newly designated safehouse in suburban Raleigh as they waited for the BAU to meet with them. The two teams would need to coordinate their movements now that their targets overlapped, so after they showed up and brief introductions were made, Emily started dispatching the two teams. Even if Doyle wasn't taking his time, they estimated that they had about a couple of hours before he arrived in Raleigh. They also figured that Declan – or Damian Wagner, as he went by now – would have to go to school, so she delegated Morgan, Dave and Seaver to go get him at his house and escort him to school while keeping a low profile – no FBI-issued SUV on this operation. Meanwhile, Porter and Snipe would set up some basic surveillance around the house, establish perimeter, while she, Hotch and Reid, would focus on Doyle's profile and try to predict his behavior.

After sending everyone off, she returned to the area where they'd set everything up and found Hotch at the computer, in conversation with Mo, while Reid was intensely focusing on the maps on the wall. Emily approached the young profiler and looked at his handy work; he had carefully pinned every location where the bankcard had been used over the last 48 hours, creating a North-South line along the coast.

"Emily!" he said with a surprised smile as he noticed her standing next to him, as if he was so used to not having her around that he was still amazed to find her there.

Emily smiled and rested her hand on his shoulder blade briefly. "What are you thinking?" she asked as she returned her gaze to his work.

"He's not driving on I95, more like parallel to it, avoiding toll routes. Which makes sense, if he's driving a stolen car, so assuming his target is Declan's house, I've been trying to narrow down the possible routes he could be taking that wouldn't slow him down too much. There's only a few of them. Maybe we should try to have local police block those and intercept him before he gets too close?"

"I've thought about that," Emily nodded, "but I don't want to alert him to our presence until the last minute. Otherwise he might bolt, or become unpredictable. I don't want him to know that we've been tracking him down. Surprise will be our greatest asset."

He nodded, biting his lips in concentration. "Right."

"But we can still set up some surveillance on those key intersections that will alert us if he's coming that way. We would be ready for him. Good work, I'm gonna get Garcia on accessing surveillance cameras in the area," Emily said.

"Emily?" he asked in a small voice just as she was turning away from him.

She turned back to him. "Yeah Reid?"

"You _are_ coming back to the BAU, right?"

Emily smiled slightly. "That's the plan." Though she didn't want to get her hopes up too much – it wasn't up to her, or even to Hotch, for that matter. The decision to reinstate her would have to come from higher up.

Reid's lips turned upward. "Good."

Emily patted him on the back again and made her way to Hotch. He wasn't talking to Mo anymore, but rather stood slightly hunched over as he spoke on his phone in a low voice. Curious, Emily made her way to the laptop so she'd be within earshot, but she couldn't make out any of his words, until he said: "Yes ma'am, goodbye," and snapped his phone shut, looking unhappy.

Emily threw him a concerned look as he approached her. "Everything okay?"

"Chief Strauss," he shrugged.

"What does _she_ want?" Emily asked with a shake of the head as she set up the video call with Garcia.

"The usual," he said as he walked to her, standing a little closer than he usually would – making Emily's skin buzz with awareness - and followed her gaze to the screen. "What have you got?"

"Reid's figured out some of the routes Doyle might be taking-" she stopped mid-sentence as Garcia's tired expression appeared on the screen. "How are you holding up, Garcia?" Emily asked.

"Perfectly well, my dear friend, I'm ready to stay up for another week if that means's we'll get that scumbag Ian Doyle," she replied. "Seriously, who does he think he is, stealing our friend away from us for a year?"

Emily smiled. "Don't worry, we _will _get him Garcia, and hopefully it won't take another week." She felt Hotch's hand rest on her back at this, the warmth seeping through her worn Yale sweatshirt. "Can you have access to the intersection lights' security cameras in town?"

"I sure can, just tell me what you need to look at and I'll send you the feed live."

Emily smiled. "You truly are the best, my friend."

"Ha! Tell me something I don't know," Garcia quipped.

Chuckling, Emily she sent her the different intersections they needed to watch out for, then ended the connection.

"How do you think Doyle is going to attempt making contact with Declan?" Hotch asked as Emily straightened up. He dropped his hand as she turned to face him.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure, he's always been a rash decision-maker, but I think he truly cared for Declan. He won't want to risk hurting him."

"Even if Declan refuses to leave with him?"

Emily tilted her head. "See that's the thing, I'm not entirely sure how Declan will react to all this either. He was just a boy at the time and didn't really understand why I had to take him away from his father. I told him the truth about who his father was, and said that I was doing it to keep him safe. But I'm not sure how much of it he truly understood. It was like a big game for him."

Hotch crossed his arms as he considered this. "That might complicate things."

"How would you approach Declan, if you were Doyle?"

"I would try to make contact when he's isolated, either on his way to or from school, or when he's alone in the house. Maybe ask him to meet me in a public place, to show that he has nothing to fear from me, that I just want to connect. I would try to convince him that everything Lauren Reynolds told him was a lie."

Emily nodded and was about to respond when Hotch's phone rang, and after looking at the caller id, he switched it to speakerphone so Emily could hear.

"Morgan, what's going on?" Hotch asked.

"Hotch, get Prentiss on the phone," he said abruptly, his foreboding tone turning Emily's blood cold.

"I'm here, go ahead Morgan," she said with dread.

"We're here with Declan – or whatever his name is now - and Mrs. Wagner, but he won't come with us. He says he'll only talk to Lauren."

"How does he know I'm a part of this?" she asked.

"That's the thing. He won't say. We could force him to come with us, but…"

Emily exchanged a look with Hotch. "No, tell him I'll be right there."

"Hold on a minute," Morgan started, "what if Doyle is behind this-"

"I'm ready to risk it," Emily interrupted as she moved away and towards their equipment. She took off her sweatshirt so she could put on a bulletproof vest over her t-shirt.

"Hotch…" she heard Morgan say, as if pleading him to do something.

"Yeah, I'm on it." The phone snapped shut and Emily braced herself as Hotch quickly caught up with her. He was probably going to try to convince her that it was too risky, or that she wasn't being rational, or that- "What are you doing?" she asked when she looked up and saw him pulling his fleece over his head and grabbing a vest.

"I'm going with you," he said simply and Emily couldn't help staring at him in wonder for a few seconds.

"You're not going to try to stop me?"

"Would you listen?"

Emily almost smiled. "Probably not."

"Then that's all there is to it," he replied, his hands busy with the Velcro straps on his vest.

"Aaron Hotchner I could kiss you right now," she said with relief, without thinking.

He threw a quick look in Reid's direction before meeting her eyes again, a small smile on his lips. "I'll collect that later," he said, echoing Mo's earlier words.

And there it was, _the flirting_.

Emily's heart skipped a beat as she held his gaze for a moment longer, until she snapped herself out of it and resumed getting ready, tying her hair up in a ponytail and checking her gun for ammo. "Reid!" she called him over. "We're going in, I need you to hold down the fort."

"What? What's going on?" he asked as he watched Emily and Hotch hiding their vest under their respective sweaters and placing earpieces into their ears.

"Here's the radio, leave it open, I might need you to relay information to the others," she said as she put the device into his hands. She turned to Hotch, "ready?"

He gave a curt nod, and Emily squeezed Reid's arm before turning on her heels.

"Wait, guys, what's going on? Guys!" he cried as they started walking away.

"No time to explain!" Emily replied, walking backwards, "I need you to look at the camera feed Garcia's sending us, keep a look out for a vehicle matching Doyle's. Let us know the second you see it!"

They jumped in their nondescript car and as they made their way Emily called Porter and Snipe, requesting that they get into position; they knew what they had to do. Once in Declan's neighborhood, they parked a couple of blocks down the street from the suburban house they were looking for, since Emily didn't want to attract too much attention to the house. Too many cars would look suspicious. Just as she was reaching to unbuckle her seat belt, Hotch's hand grabbed hers, stilling her movement.

_Oh here we go_, Emily thought, thinking that he might try to stop her after all.

"How do you want to play this?" he asked instead, once more surprising her.

"I knew Declan pretty well as a boy, I'm going to try to get him to talk. I might have to do it alone."

"I'm not sure that's wise, not before we know what emotional state he's in. Let me go in with you first, see how he is, then we'll go from there."

Emily nodded, a sudden knot clamping her stomach. Hotch seemed to sense her dread because he reached out and squeezed her fingers briefly before he let her go and got out of the car. Taking a deep breath, Emily followed him, falling in step with him once she'd caught up with him.

Emily knocked once when they were at the door, then pushed it open and went in. The lady Emily had known as Maddy, Doyle's housekeeper and Declan's guardian – who now went by Mrs. Wagner - was standing with Morgan in the living room. She looked upset, her eyes red from crying and holding a tissue in her hand. Her head snapped to Emily when she walked in, relieved to see her.

Emily smiled slightly as she walked to the older woman and squeezed her fingers. "Maddy, it's good to see you."

"Lauren! We thought you were dead," Maddy said.

Emily exchanged a look with Morgan who was shaking his head slightly. Though no sound escaped his lips, she could almost hear his sarcastic comment in her head: 'join the club' or something to that effect. She returned her attention to her old acquaintance, and rubbed her arm in a comforting gesture. "I know. Where's Declan?"

"He's in the back with Rossi and Seaver," Morgan replied.

"He never believed it, when we learned you were dead," Maddy added. "He was convinced that he would feel it if anything bad truly happened to you."

"I'm going to go talk to him now, alright? You go with Agent Morgan, he'll take you some place safe," she said as she exchanged another look with Derek who nodded. She squeezed the older woman's fingers once more before making her way across the house to the backyard, aware that Hotch was still close on her heels.

When she stepped outside, she was greeted by the sight of a younger and smaller-built version of Ian Doyle. Declan, being around fifteen now, had lost his baby face and golden hair, the latter now more of a light brown and cut really short. Emily was struck speechless by his resemblance to his father for a second, until he noticed her and gave her an angry look over Dave's shoulder. They all turned to look at her as she closed the patio door and held Declan's defying gaze.

"Ha, I told Mom you weren't dead," he said flatly, sounding proud of his instincts.

"How did you know? Has anyone contacted you?"

He seemed insulted. "I don't need anyone to _contact _me. I just knew."

Emily turned to Hotch and met his gaze. "I think I got it, here," she said in a low voice as she subtly turned on her mike so that the team could hear the conversation, at least.

Hotch nodded. "Dave, Seaver, let's secure the house," he said and the two agents followed him back into the house, not before giving Emily serious looks as they passed by her. Emily focused her attention back to the resentful teenager who was still glaring at her, teeth clenched.

Underneath his anger though, Emily could tell that he was upset to see her again. He had missed her, she could tell, and now he was lashing out on her to punish her for leaving him behind. It was textbook child psychology. Emily cleared her throat as she stepped closer.

"Declan, I know this is hard but-"

"My name's Damian," he interrupted. "Damian Wagner."

Emily stopped her approach and nodded. "Okay, Damian. I need to talk to you about something. It's important."

He snorted. "Yeah, I figured social calls were kinda beneath you, you had to reserve the honor of your presence for real important stuff, like my father coming after me."

Emily ignored the snarky comments. "How do you know about that?"

"Your agents told me."

"Dec- Damian, I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be, but I need you to answer this honestly. Has your father contacted you lately? A phone call, maybe? An email? Anything that made you think he might know where you are?"

"Is Lauren even your real name?" he asked, ignoring her questions.

Emily sighed. "No, it's not. My name's Emily Prentiss."

He huffed angrily. "What else did you lie about while you were playing the perfect wife with my father?" his voice was rising a little, but it was his words that really startled Emily. She quickly bridged the gap between them and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

"He _has_ contacted you, hasn't he? When?"

Damian avoided her gaze for a few seconds, but Emily's grip was relentless.

"Yesterday. He called my cell phone," he admitted in a smaller voice.

Once Doyle knew the address it was easy to find a phone number – and vice versa. That confirmed that he knew where Decl-Damian lived. "What did he say?" she pressed urgently.

"He said he wanted to see me again. He said he was sorry for not coming for me sooner." He looked back up at her. "He said everything you'd told me about him was a lie."

Emily squeezed his shoulders a little harder. "You listen to me, I may have lied about who I was, but I have never, _never_, lied to _you_, do you understand me? I cared about you too much! Everything I've done-"

"Everything?" he repeated incredulously, snatching away and stepping back, his face distorted with anger. "You haven't done _anything_! All this time, I thought you cared about me, I thought you'd come back for me, but you never did!" he was close to tears and it tugged at Emily's heart. It took everything she had to bite back her own tears and stay composed.

"I know, me too, believe me. But it doesn't work that way. Letting you stay with me would only have put you in danger. I couldn't do that, you know that! I needed you to be safe!"

"Yeah, right!"

Emily was momentarily distracted by the sound of chatter in her ear. "Guys I just spotted Doyle's car on the surveillance camera, he's on the move, but he's not going in the direction of the house," Reid's voice said in her ear.

"Where is he going?" she heard Hotch ask.

"Don't know. He was heading north on..."

Emily turned down the volume a little and returned her attention to Declan – _Damian_:the others could take care of figuring out where Doyle was going and come and get her if need be. She sighed as she once more settled her gaze on the young man in front of her. "Listen, we could talk about this all day, and I'm willing to do that when this is over if you want, but right now I need you to tell me… What else did your father say? Did he ask you to meet him anywhere? Did he give you any specifics?"

"What if I want to go with him? What if I believe him? Why should I tell you?" he asked in a challenging tone.

Emily smiled thinly. "Because I know that's not what you really want. Otherwise you'd want me to refer to you by your given name, Declan. Not Damian. That tells me that you don't want to have anything to do with that life." She stepped a little closer. Why did this feel like a hostage negotiation? "He's a master at manipulating people, Damian, but he's also a very dangerous man. Don't let his words fool you. He's always wanted to make a criminal out of you, make you continue the Doyle family business of weapons trafficking, murder and secrecy. I doubt he's changed his mind. Is that what you want? To be a low-life criminal when you grow up? I don't think so. I don't think you're that stupid."

He held her stare defiantly for a few seconds, until he looked down, a little defeated. "He wants me to meet him in the park, by my school."

Emily let out the breath she'd been holding. "When?"

"Today, after class. Around 4:30."

"Okay," she breathed as she looked down at her watch. 9:36am. That gave them plenty of time to take control of the perimeter of the park. "Listen, I need you to go to school today, just like any other day, don't tell anyone about any of this. My friends Agents Rossi and Seaver will take you there and come and get you about half an hour before classes end this afternoon." She looked at him seriously for a second, considering the wisdom of her next words. "Do you think you'd be up to waiting for him in the park? We'd be looking after you, ready to intervene if anything happened. Do you think you could do that?"

"You want me to serve as bait to catch my father?" he asked, unsure.

"I know it's scary, and if you're not comfortable with this, then say the word and we'll forget I even mentioned it."

He seemed to consider it for a few long seconds. "You'll be there in case anything happens?"

"I promise. I won't let you out of my sight, neither will any of those agents. We'll keep you safe."

"Okay. Alright, I'll do it."

Emily released her breath. "Okay. Come on, we'll get you to school."

"I'd rather skip," he said as he started walking back towards the house and Emily fell in step with him.

She snorted. "I'm sure you would. Dream on, kid."

* * *

><p>End chapter 6...<p> 


	7. Emily's Job

**Chapter 7: Emily's Job**

While Dave and Seaver escorted Damian to school, and Morgan drove Mrs. Wagner to a secure location, Hotch and Prentiss drove back to headquarters where they were to meet with Porter and Snipe – whom Prentiss had recalled – and Morgan, when he returned. Prentiss had suggested that Dave and Seaver keep an eye out around school, but they promised to stay in touch.

After listening in on Prentiss' conversation with Damian Wagner, Hotch had the powerful urge to call Jack. Just to make sure he was okay, so he suggested that Emily drive and took a few minutes to talk to his son. The sound of his voice soothed Hotch like nothing else could. He missed him, and he was starting to feel like he'd been away for too long. Well, if anything went according to plan today, it wouldn't be very long until he could hold his son's tiny frame in his arms again.

Prentiss was quiet as she drove, her elbow resting against the window frame and temple leaning against her fingers. He could tell that her conversation – confrontation, rather – with Damian had deeply shaken her. Hotch wasn't sure to what extent she had expected Damian to be angry with her, but admittedly it had surprised _him_. He hadn't realized until then how close to the boy she had been. Then again, there was a lot more he didn't know about that mission, or any others, for that matter.

"You were good with him," he said.

She sighed, but stayed as she was, still focus on looking at the road ahead. "Yeah…"

She didn't say more, so Hotch decided to respect her need for silence for the rest of the drive. Once at headquarters, he was happy to see that Porter and Snipe had stopped on the way for some food and coffee for everyone. As they all ate, they started going over the plan for the afternoon. Reid pulled up a satellite image of the park, so they could strategize how they would do this, and where everyone would be positioned so that there would be no way out for Doyle once he walked in. Of course Doyle knew what the BAU team members looked like, so they would have to disguise themselves, or stay out of sight unless absolutely necessary.

Hotch wasn't convinced that actually having Damian there was a good idea – who knew what could happen? – but the teenager had accepted to do it. And because Prentiss had promised that they would be there to watch his back, they had to help her keep up that promise and make sure that nothing happened to him.

Morgan joined them after a while and they started discussing the best way to apprehend Doyle once he showed up. Some thought it would be better to just take him as soon as he entered the park, others thought it might be better to wait until he actually got to talking with his son and stopped paying attention to his surroundings.

Hotch, much like Emily, remained silent as he listened to every point of view, but he couldn't help but notice Porter and Snipe exchanging looks as the conversation went on. "Snipe, what's on your mind?" Hotch asked eventually.

The older agent exchanged another look with Porter. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I don't think you guys realize who we're talking about here. Our mission is to shoot to kill – not _apprehend _him."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Look, if this was any other criminal," Porter added, "we would have no objection to your plan. But no one just _catches_ Ian Doyle. There's only one way to stop him. Prentiss knows that, I know that, he knows that," he said with his thumb pointing to Snipe.

Hotch sighed as he remembered Clyde Easter telling him the very same thing the year before. At the time Hotch hadn't been able to betray his oath to the FBI, not even to save Emily, and there was no way he would do it now. Not that he didn't want to, especially now that he knew some of the things Doyle had done to her that night. _He burned a four-leaf clover over my heart._ Her voice still rang in his memory as clearly as it had the evening before. There was nothing he'd rather do than put a bullet through that man's heart, but it wasn't his job.

It was Emily's.

"I don't have a problem with that," Morgan said eventually, "anybody have a problem with that?" he challenged, and Hotch knew that if he had been there, Rossi might have spoken up, so Hotch decided to speak in his stead.

"Morgan, that's not our job," he reminded him.

"Oh come on Hotch, do you really wanna tell me that you don't want to see that man eat a bullet? 'Cause if you do I won't believe you."

Hotch threw a quick look at Emily, but she was looking down at her fingers on the table. "I'm not saying that," Hotch replied carefully.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm just saying that we each have our mission. Ours is to protect Doyle's son. That's it. Nothing less, nothing more." He was hoping that the others would read between the lines of what he was _not_ saying: that he had nothing against Porter, Snipe and Prentiss accomplishing _their_ mission objective. The BAU would not stand in their way.

There was another long pause.

"Hotch is right," Prentiss agreed after a moment. "We'll stick to our respective objectives. The BAU will focus on Damian, we'll worry about Doyle."

"You talk like you're not part of the BAU, Prentiss," Morgan remarked, sounding a little hurt.

"That's because I'm not. Not right now, at least." She glanced around the table. "Alright, so that's in then. The BAU's job will be to intervene in case Doyle doesn't take no for an answer, but if I'm correct about this, Doyle won't risk hurting his son. He'll try to manipulate him into consenting to leave with him. So I expect that he'll walk away, allowing Damian to think about it. You guys will secure Damian once the meeting's over. We'll take care of the rest."

"What if something does go wrong?" Reid asked.

"You'll intervene, make the arrest if possible." She turned to Porter and Snipe, leaning in their direction on the table to really get their attention. "I don't care what happens to Doyle, but there's one thing I care about more than anything: I don't want Damian to witness what happens to his father, got it? He thinks we're arresting him, I don't want him to have any reason to think otherwise. That kid has lived through enough, I don't want to add guilt for baiting his father to his death to his list of issues. Understood?" she said in a voice that brooked no argument.

They nodded. "Yes, ma'am," Porter said, and Hotch was relieved not to hear any trace of sarcasm in his tone this time. It was probably a first since he'd met the man.

"Alright, then. Let's get ready," she declared as she stood and walked away.

Hotch's eyes followed her across the room until she reached Reid's map and stared at it, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Who put her in charge?" Morgan asked a little jokingly next to him, startling Hotch who hadn't noticed him approach.

"The CIA," he replied simply as he gathered his notes.

"Hotch, aren't you worried that she might be too close to this?"

"No, in fact, I think she's doing rather well, considering. Her guys respect her-"

"I was talking about us. Who put her in charge of the BAU?"

Hotch frowned. "She's not. However this is her case, Morgan. We're her guests, she _chose_ to tell the BAU, when she didn't have to. As far as I'm concerned she's in charge of the operation and we're here to help. Do you have a problem with that?"

Morgan held his gaze for a second. "No, I guess not."

"Good. Then let's get on with it."

"I find her scary as a team leader," Morgan said in a lighter tone, with half a smile as he gazed at her from the distance. "Hell, she's more of a drill sergeant than you are. The way she just ordered those guys around, man – scary."

Hotch smiled slightly. "Tell me about it."

* * *

><p>Around 3:45 that afternoon Rossi and Seaver came back with Damian, who looked a little apprehensive, but otherwise rather calm, under the circumstances. Emily went to greet him when he came in and Hotch observed them subtly from afar, gauging the teenager's state of mind from his behavior. He still looked somewhat mad at Emily, keeping his distance, but he wasn't holding himself as stiffly as he had that morning, and he even allowed her to touch his shoulder as she led him to the table, where they entered in what looked like to be a serious conversation.<p>

"How did it go?" Hotch asked as Dave and Seaver joined him.

"Uneventful. No sign of his father."

Hotch decided this would be a good moment to update them on the plan, making sure they understood where they would position themselves and brace themselves for anything to happen while they were out there. Morgan and Reid were already disguised and in position, as were Porter and Snipe – whose positions Emily had not disclosed to anyone except the two spies themselves.

"Ashley," Emily called as she approached them, her hand once more on Damian's shoulder, guiding or supporting? He couldn't quite tell. "Could you make sure Damian here is appropriately bugged?"

"Sure thing," the young agent smiled as she directed the teenager to follow her.

In the meantime, Emily greeted Rossi with a nod.

"How are you feeling?" Dave asked her.

"Actually I'm trying not to feel anything right now," she said. "I think everything's ready. The only thing missing is our disguises, then we're good to go. Are you clear on what you have to do?" she asked Dave.

"Absolutely."

She smiled a little as she squeezed his arm gratefully. "Would you mind helping Seaver, make sure Damian's ready? I need a word with Hotch."

"Of course," he said with a reassuring hand on her shoulder before he moved away.

Hotch looked at her expectantly, but she merely looked around the room for a second, not meeting his gaze. After a moment, she seemed to make up her mind and took hold of his arm, guiding him in a determined stride to the next room. Once there she looked up, and Hotch wondered what made her look so nervous. She'd looked completely in control only a moment ago.

"Hotch, I…" She cleared her throat, her eyes wide. "I guess this is it, huh?"

"Hopefully."

She smiled slightly, releasing her breath. "Yeah. Listen, whatever happens- I just wanted to thank you again," she said seriously.

Hotch almost smiled, but shook his head instead. "You need to stop saying that."

"No," she took hold of his arm again, her cool fingers digging into his skin, the strength of her grip revealing just how actually anxious she was. "I'm serious, I don't think you realize what your being here has meant to me." She paused, biting her lip as if searching for the right word. "You gave me the courage to snap out of my self-wallowing and to face… well, everything. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

Hotch shook his head at this. "Don't. You know full well I didn't come here to indebt you to me, or as some kind of favor, I came here because _it's what we do_. Though you don't carry the badge, you're still a part of our team, Prentiss, and in our team we watch out for each other." He shook his head again. "No thanking necessary."

She didn't look convinced but Hotch held her gaze unflinchingly, making sure she understood he meant it. After a second she looked away, but not before he caught a glimpse of her bright, almost shy, dimpled smile.

"Are you going to wear that flannel shirt again? It was very flattering," she teased.

She was lightening the mood. Good. "Actually I was hoping I could borrow that funky-looking wig of yours."

She looked a little shocked by his joking, but then chuckled. "Yeah, that'll go well. Anyway I need to go get ready." She met his eyes again, looking grateful, and he could tell she was about to thank him again.

"Don't say it," he said warningly and she grimaced.

"I'll catch up with you in a second, then." She looked like she was about to leave, but then stopped abruptly and turned back to him. She looked him squarely in the eyes, then furrowed her brows, nodded to herself and closed the gap between them. Before Hotch knew it she was on her tiptoes, one hand sliding to the back of his neck, and kissing the corner of his lips softly. She pulled back again before he could even react, met his eyes, and released him quickly, walking backwards.

"Whatever happens… Thanks."

And then, just like that, she was gone, and Hotch found that he hadn't moved an inch.

* * *

><p><em>Don't think, compartmentalize, focus<em>, Emily told herself as she sat on the bench with Seaver, both appropriately disguised with wigs, sunglasses and for Seaver, an empty stroller that she kept pushing back and forth, as if there were actually a sleeping baby in it. Emily hoped that to any outside observer they looked like friends, just catching up over warm beverages in the park on this beautifully sunny afternoon. Emily took a look around. Damian was sitting by himself several meters away by the kid's games, in all appearances listening to his ipod and not really caring what went on around him. On the other side of the games, Hotch, dressed like a park employee with a baseball cap deep onto his head, was busying himself with painting the swing set. Emily would have found the sight pretty damn funny if she'd hadn't been so anxious about everything. Morgan, with a bandana on his head, hood low over his face and jeans that were three sizes too big for him, was shooting basketballs on the court a little further away. Dave and Reid were to wait in the car and tell them the moment they spotted Doyle. Porter and Snipe had confirmed moments ago that they were in position, and ready.

They had secured the perimeter a while ago, and Hotch's apologies that the games were closed for maintenance discouraged anybody who came to enjoy that particular spot of the park, so that it was basically deserted except for Damian and the team. They had alerted local police, but had requested that they absolutely not have anyone patrolling in the area.

Emily looked at her watch anxiously. 4:31. He would be there any minute now.

She could hear Damian's shallow breathing in her earpiece, and the reminder of what he must be going through calmed her, somewhat helping her to focus.

"Guys, he's here," Emily heard Reid say. She tried not to react as she spotted the man in question, slowly walking up to where Damian was sitting, glancing around carefully. Emily turned to Seaver and pretended to be babbling nonsense to the nonexistent baby, trying to appear natural, hoping to God that he wouldn't recognize any of them or notice how stiff she'd become when she'd spotted him.

Emily sighed in relief when he focused his attention to Damian once more, approaching him carefully, as if walking on eggshells, afraid to startle him. He was smiling in awe, and had it been anybody other than Ian Doyle, the moment might have been touching.

"Declan?" he asked.

His son looked up and stood a little awkwardly, rubbing his palms on his thighs nervously as he looked him up and down. "Yeah."

Doyle extended his hand for Damian to shake. He hesitated for a second, but then took it, still looking wary. "Thanks for coming. It's good to see you, son. How have you been?"

"Great. What do you want?" he asked, a tad angrily and Emily realized that she wasn't the only one he was angry with, but he was doing great, he just needed to stay calm.

"Have you thought about what I told you?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what? You can't just show up here after eight years and expect me to just want to play catch."

Doyle nodded. "Right. You're right, of course. I'm sure you have questions, let's hear them," Doyle replied as they both sat back down.

Damian asked him about what he'd been doing all this time, and Emily shook her head in despise as Doyle made up some crap about starting over and starting his own company. They talked about that and Damian's school for a while, and Emily was getting anxious that she and Seaver would look suspicious, just sitting there, so she gestured for her to get up and walk around a little. She was careful to keep them out of direct sight of both Doyle and Damian, but she could still keep eye contact with the others.

"I never meant to be separated from you. I swear," Doyle was saying. "In fact until very recently I thought you were dead. _She_ made me believe you were dead," he said, his voice low and filled with barely-disguised rage.

And at that precise moment, Emily's hatred of him came back full force, and she stopped being afraid. For the first time since this whole thing had started, she found herself at peace with what she had to do.

"How could you just go with her?" Doyle asked his son, and she saw the teen lean away at the accusation in his father's voice.

"What do you mean? I was just a kid! I didn't know what was going on," he said defensively.

"Yes, you're right. Of course. I'm sorry," Doyle said, regaining some control over his emotions. But Emily could tell that he had frightened Damian a little.

"End the conversation," she whispered to herself, and she was a little relieved when she saw him stand up again, putting some more distance between him and his father. "Look, what do you want?" he asked again.

"I want you to come home with me, Declan, that's all I've ever wanted since I found out that you were still alive."

"Why?" he asked, sounding hurt, and Emily wondered how much of it was an act. Probably not much.

Doyle laughed incredulously as he leaned back against the bench to look at his son. "Why? Because I love you, son. We belong together."

"Emily said you wanted to-"

_Oh no! _Emily's heart sank and she closed her eyes at his slip. Doyle was on his feet in seconds, once more looking around, this time a little frantically. Damian's eyes widened when he realized his mistake.

"Emily? Where did you hear that name?" Doyle grabbed Damian's upper arms. He looked around again, but he didn't seem to suspect any of them as they were far enough not to look suspicious. "Where did you hear that name?" he yelled this time, and Emily could tell that he was hurting Damian.

"What? Nowhere! I swear!"

"She was supposed to be dead, who told you her real name?" he asked menacingly.

"Nobody!"

"Don't lie to me boy!"

That was it. She'd heard enough.

As if on autopilot, Emily made her decision. Leaving Seaver's side, she approached them from the back slowly, determinedly, withdrawing her gun and pointing it at Doyle. She heard Seaver's panicked voice in her ear as she alerted the others to what Emily was doing, then Hotch's curse, but she remained focused on her target. She expected him to use Damian as a shield, but she also knew that he wouldn't really hurt him.

"Let him go, Ian," she ordered slowly when she was close enough.

Doyle spun around at the sound of her voice, and as expected, quickly grabbed Damian and pulled him against his chest as he withdrew his own gun, pointing it at Emily. He looked around, but thank goodness no one else had moved, so he returned his attention on her, apparently believing that she was alone. Damian was squirming against him, so Emily knew that Doyle wouldn't be able to get a good shot, being too busy to keep him still. He, however, was surrounded by trained FBI agents who were very slowly getting in position, not counting three CIA agents whose mission was to eliminate him.

"I'm sorry!" Damian said as he squirmed. "I'm so sorry!" He was scared, but Emily couldn't let that distract her and focused on the father.

He was staring at her with a mix of rage and incredulity. "Emily Prentiss. You're a hard woman to kill."

"Allow me to return the compliment," she said calmly, her gun unwaveringly aimed at his forehead. "Not that you're a woman, but you know what I mean. What do you want with him?" she asked calmly, stalling for the right moment, for that perfect second. That's all she asked for.

"He's my son! His place is by my side, not here in some disgusting American suburbia!"

"He doesn't want to go with you, Ian. Come on, Damian, tell him!"

"His name is Declan!" Doyle yelled.

"Don't listen to him, Damian, just tell him you don't want to go."

The poor boy was frightened to death, unable to speak, but Emily had expected it. "You're frightening the boy, Ian, not a good way to start a healthy relationship with your son."

Emily's eyes moved over Doyle's shoulder for half a second as she spotted Hotch slowly and quietly moving around from behind Doyle to get out of her firing angle, his gun raised.

"Is that true what she's saying, boy? Do you really don't want to come home with me? Because if that's the case, what possible good are you to me? I could just kill you right now."

Emily saw Damian close his eyes at the threat, shaking his head and pleading softly.

"You're right," Emily agreed, "you might as well. From what I heard he's not all that smart. He would only be a nuisance to you."

"Don't you dare talk to me about my son!" Doyle spat and Emily was somewhat relieved to see that he wasn't totally in control of his own emotions and that he wasn't entirely coherent anymore – he was obviously deeply conflicted between his desire for revenge against her and his love for his son. He would want to protect him from her. Good. The man had obviously completely lost his mind.

"Why not? It's clear you never cared about him. Why haven't you tried to find him before now?"

"You made me believe he was dead, it's all your fault!"

"If you truly loved him, you would have known, in your gut, that your son, your flesh and blood, was still alive. What kind of a father are you? Not much of one, apparently," she laughed derisively.

"Shut your mouth, _bitch_," he said menacingly, his gun wavering a little as he spat the insult, and Emily threw another glance in Hotch's direction; he was ready, waiting. Now she could also see Morgan getting closer, and she knew that Seaver was somewhere to her left, ready. And then there was Porter and Snipe.

"Don't call her that," Damian gasped as loudly as he could, still squirming to try to get loose.

Emily's heart sank again – to Doyle such words only told him one thing: his son was betraying him for a woman he hated more than anything else in the world. She watched as his face slowly changed and contorted in anger and hatred, as if in slow motion.

But then suddenly everything seemed to accelerate and move faster, in a blur; Doyle shoved Damian towards Emily, raised his gun towards her and pulled the trigger. Momentarily distracted by a stumbling Damian, her own shot missed and she cried in pain as she felt his bullet hit her right shoulder, making her drop her gun and stagger backwards until she fell.

She groaned in pain and when she opened her eyes again Doyle was standing over her, smirking, his gun pointed at her head. "I beat you,_ Emily_," he said, echoing her own words from the year before.

_Oh no you don't! _Acting on pure instinct, Emily used her left hand to pull her second, smaller gun from her ankle holster, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Precisely at the same moment, one-two-three shots were fired almost simultaneously from three different directions – Hotch, Porter and Snipe, if she was right about trajectory - making Doyle do some kind of morbid dance – backwards, forward, to the left, and forward again - then half a second later two more shots – Morgan and Seaver - hit him in the chest and he fell backwards, unmoving.

Lying on the cool ground, breathing heavily and blood pumping in her ears, Emily took a second to close her eyes and try to slow down the erratic beating of her heart before she sat up with a moan and looked around. "Damian, you okay?" she asked as she saw him still lying face down on the ground, tears on his cheeks, and shaking like a leaf.

Meanwhile every member of the team came rushing towards them, including Porter, Snipe, Rossi and Reid. Seaver went to check on Damian, making him stand up and pulling him away from the sight of his father lying in his own blood. Hotch hurried at Emily's side, and he was soon joined by Morgan. Reid called 911, requesting an ambulance and local police officers, while Porter and Snipe stood over Doyle's body in silence, their rifles still around their shoulders.

She heard Hotch's intake of breath as he examined her shoulder, but Emily was pumping too much adrenaline to be in too much pain. "How bad is it?" she asked as she looked down, swallowing with difficulty as the sight of her own blood seeping from her shoulder down her arm. "Ugh, I think I need to lie back down," she said, suddenly nauseous.

Hotch and Morgan gently helped her with that. "You'll be fine, I think it went straight through," Hotch said. "Just hold still while Morgan puts pressure on it, alright?" he appeared calm, but Emily could hear the concern in his voice.

She nodded and met Morgan's worried gaze as he leaned over her. It was a strange feeling of déjà-vu, and from his expression, he was having the same one. She grabbed his hand. "I'm not going anywhere this time, hotshot," she said as she tried to smile.

He nodded, but seemed unable to speak, so he squeezed her fingers while Hotch asked Reid about the ambulance's ETA.

"Five minutes!"

He turned back to her, leaning over her with concern. "Five minutes, just hold on, Emily," he said. "Just relax."

She nodded, but the movement sent a dozen stars dancing across her vision. "I think I'm gonna pass out, now," she breathed before everything went black.

* * *

><p>End part 7...<p> 


	8. The Waiting Game

Thanks to all who commented or reviewed the story so far! I've been having issues with my 'reply' function on the site for a while, but even if you don't hear back from me, know that I truly appreciate it!

**Chapter 8: The Waiting Game**

Morgan had insisted on riding on the ambulance with Prentiss, and though Hotch had wanted nothing more than to do that himself, he'd decided to let Morgan do this, if only to allow him to find the closure he needed from the previous year's events. The paramedics had tentatively confirmed Hotch's diagnosis that her injury was serious, but not necessarily life-threatening if they acted quickly, so Hotch had ordered everybody out of their way and watched quietly, anxiously, as they moved her to the gurney and into the ambulance.

Hotch had had to take care of the local police's questions, statements and reports, but his thoughts were with Emily the whole time, and she remained in his mind throughout the next couple of hours, until he was finally able to get to the hospital and wait with the others. Even Garcia and Mo had flown in from Quantico as soon as they'd heard the news.

There was a disturbing sense that they'd all been there before, and Hotch couldn't help the fear from rising in his throat, paralyzing him, even though rationally he knew that this was nothing like last time. Doyle was dead, and Emily's injury wasn't life-threatening. He repeated those things to himself as he sat in the waiting room, lost in thought.

She kept popping up in his mind and he could still see her, how dangerous and brave she had looked as she'd stood in front of Doyle, her expression calm, revealing nothing as she unwaveringly pointed a gun at the man who had tortured then stolen her life from her. And to think that he had been worried about her not being ready, or not being cool-headed enough to face him! How wrong he had been. Or maybe he had just underestimated her once more.

He always had, he knew that now. Then again maybe her ability to surprise him was what kept drawing him to her; he was a profiler, a behavior analyst, predicting behavior was his job, but no matter how confident he felt about his skills when he was chasing serial killers and psychopaths, they seemed to fall apart where Emily Prentiss was concerned. If he thought she would act a certain way; then she'd do something completely different, throwing him off-balance. He liked that, because trying to figure her out kept him on his toes and forced him to think outside the box. His reaction – or lack thereof - to her earlier actions only demonstrated his inaptitude in that department.

She had kissed him.

Chastely, softly, and not quite on the lips.

But still, it had felt like a passing tornado, moving fast, unstoppable and in some ways a little frightening. Not that he would have stopped her if he had known what she had been about to do, but she had certainly taken him by surprise. So much so that he hadn't gotten the chance to show her how much he'd wanted this before she had pulled away.

Oh yes, he had wanted it. He had wanted it for days, now, if not for much longer than that, but he had never truly imagined that she might…that she would…

"You're waiting for Emily Prentiss?" a voice said, and they all looked up to find the surgeon standing there in the doorway. They all instinctively stood, the waiting a pure torture. "Surgery went well, the bullet had passed through cleanly and didn't hit any major artery. We're still keeping an eye out for infection, so she's not completely out of the woods yet, but it certainly looks very promising."

There was a general sense of relief, and Hotch laughed as Morgan walked to the surgeon and engulfed him in a bear hug, while the others all let out relieved chuckles or little bursts of laughter, hugging each other happily. Hotch returned the gesture when Dave patted his back.

"When can we see her?" Reid asked eagerly.

"She's sleeping right now, so why don't you people get some rest for a few hours? We'll let you know the moment she wakes up."

"I think I speak for everyone when I say we'd rather stay here, if that's alright," Hotch said.

"As you wish," the doctor said. "I'll be back when I have more news."

Everyone was much more relaxed now, chatting between themselves, but for some reason Hotch needed some time alone, some time to process, so he quietly existed the room and once in the corridor, leaned back against the wall. He took a deep, steadying breath, and only at that moment did he realize how worried he actually had been. He'd tried to be rational about it and keep his fear under control, but now that he knew that she would be alright, his hands were shaking uncontrollably and he felt like his breath was stuck in his throat. He walked to the water cooler and poured himself a small cup of water, still trying to get his unsteady hands under control.

"Are you okay, Hotch?"

It was Dave, looking at him with some concern.

Hotch nodded, then cleared his throat. "Yes! Yes, I just needed a minute."

Dave stayed silent for a moment, giving Hotch some time as he got some water as well. "You know, I'm curious about one thing…" he started eventually. "How long have you known that she was alive?"

Hotch looked down at the little paper cup in his fingers. This was a question he expected to hear a lot over the next few days. He raised his head back up to meet Dave's gaze. "I've known all along."

"Really? But you mourned her loss… I know you did," he stated, confused.

Hotch shrugged a little. "I knew that she was alive, but I never imagined that I would ever see her again, of course I mourned her loss."

Dave nodded wisely for a second.

"I unexpectedly ran into her a few months ago…" Hotch continued, smiling a little at the memory, for some reason the words flowing out of his mouth before he could stop them. However he didn't want to stop them, it felt good to talk about it at last, it felt… liberating. "Do you remember that case in northern Minnesota; I took Seaver up with me to investigate a series of murders while you were busy in Iowa?"

Dave nodded. "Yeah, I remember that."

"It turns out that she'd been living there for the last several months, and she was the one pressing the local sheriff to contact us."

"Why would she do that if she didn't want to be found?"

"I think she expected to be gone again by the time we got there. Whatever her intentions were, we met unexpectedly and she ended up helping with the investigation."

"Huh…So Seaver knew too?"

Hotch nodded. "We made her promise not to tell."

Dave nodded again as he processed this new information. "Is that when you got closer? You and Prentiss? I noticed… you two interact... differently. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it feels different somehow."

Hotch stared at Dave for a moment. He didn't know why he should be surprised that such an experienced profiler had noticed something, but he was. However there was no point in denying it. "Maybe. Probably."

"Huh…" Dave mumbled again, eyeing Hotch closely. "Is that going to stop her from coming back to work with us?"

"What? No, it's nothing like that." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely true either. This thing between them, they hadn't even begun to comprehend, let alone discuss what it was. She had kissed him, yes, but sometimes he wondered whether it had simply been out of gratitude, or even maybe as a goodbye. He truly had no idea what had been going through her mind.

Dave didn't look convinced as he kept staring at him. "Uh-huh."

Hotch sighed in defeat after three seconds. "I don't know. I hope not," he ended up admitting.

"Okay…" Dave patted his shoulder twice. "I'm going back in, are you coming?"

He shook his head. "I'll think I'll go check up on Damian Wagner." The young man had not been physically injured, but the paramedics had insisted on taking him to the hospital as well - he had definitely been in shock.

"Okay, I'll see you later."

When Hotch knocked on the open door, he saw that Damian was sitting up on one of the beds, his mother sitting by him, apparently trying to convince him to eat something.

"Damian, do you mind if I come in?" Hotch asked and the young man shook his head, so Hotch approached him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Damian swallowed, a confused frown on his face. "I um… I'm not sure. It all happened so fast, you know? One minute we're just talking, the next he's holding me hostage, the next he's dead. Just like that."

"I'm sorry."

He nodded but Hotch saw the shiver that shook him. "Have you heard from Lau- from Emily? Is she okay?"

"She will be, yes. That's what I came here to tell you."

"Oh good, that's great!" he said on a relieved sigh. "Thanks."

"You did great today, Damian. But there's one thing I want to make sure you understand… those things she said…"

"She was only trying to get my father to talk, I get it."

Hotch nodded. "She didn't mean any of it, you can be sure of that."

"Yeah… yeah, I know."

"Good. You should know that she's really proud of you."

He seemed to lighten up a little at this. "Did she tell you that?"

"Not in so many words, but she's a good friend of mine, and I can tell."

"Tell her I said thanks. For everything."

Hotch smiled. "You can tell her yourself when she wakes up. In the meantime, you take care," he said as he gave him one last nod, then exited the room. As he walked back towards the waiting room, he the three CIA agents standing outside, leaning against the wall much like he had a while ago.

"All that overflowing happiness was just a tad too much, you Feds are just incredible saps…" Porter said by way of explanation, making Hotch smile slightly. "See, _we_, on the other hand, knew she was made of harder stuff." He turned serious as he gazed at Hotch curiously. "You knew it too."

"I hoped so."

"Yeah… You know, I was hoping we could convince her to hang around with us a little longer," Porter added. "We could definitely use someone like her."

"Have you asked her?" Hotch asked, half-curious, half-dreading. She had told him not so long ago that she would choose Quantico over Langley if given the choice, but what if she'd changed her mind? What if she realized that she loved the cloak-and-dagger that Hotch had always despised?

Porter shook his head. "Nah, I don't handle rejection very well," he quipped.

Hotch extended his hand to Porter, Snipe and Mo and they all shook it, small smiles on their faces. "I know you guys will be around for a while longer, but I just wanted to say while I have the chance: it's been a privilege," Hotch said.

"I never thought I'd say it, but, likewise," Porter said.

"Same here," Snipe added.

"Anytime, sir," Mo said.

After that Hotch went back inside and waited along with the others. They took turn getting food and coffee or delegated someone to stay awake while the others dozed off, uncomfortable on the stiff chairs. It was close to 5am the next morning when a nurse came back to announce that Emily was awake, and that they could see her now.

Hotch and Dave, who had not been able to sleep all night, arose the others and together they all made their way to her room. Hotch stayed at the back, acting the spectator to the scene when he longed to rush in and tell her how relieved he was that she was okay, that this was over at last. But instead he stayed in the corner and watched as Garcia, the first in, approached Emily's bed with a small 'Hey…'

At the sound of the team coming in, Emily turned her head in their direction and gave them a happy, albeit slightly dopey smile, reaching out her uninjured hand for Garcia to take it.

"How are you feeling?" Morgan asked as they all stood around her.

She nodded slowly, her eyelids drooping shut every few seconds. "I'm okay. See? I told you I wasn't going anywhere," she told Morgan, her speech a little slurred by the pain medication.

"Of course not," Garcia replied, holding Prentiss' hand in both her own possessively.

"We'll let you get your rest, now," Dave said, "but we just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Thanks," she replied as her eyes fell shut again.

"Sleep well, my sweet," Garcia said as they all started to move away and exit the room.

"Hotch?" her voice was so soft he almost hadn't heard her. He watched the others exit the room, exchanging a brief look with Dave, then approached her bed. Her eyes were closed.

"I'm here," he said.

She forced her eyes open and met his gaze, but he could see that she had some trouble focusing.

"You're not going to thank me again, are you?" Hotch asked teasingly.

She let out a tired chuckle, but then winced in pain. "Ugh, don't make me laugh."

"Sorry," he replied as he took a seat in the chair next to her bed.

"I wasn't going to say that, I promise."

Hotch smiled. "Okay." He almost thought she'd fallen asleep again when she remained silent, eyes closed and breathing evenly, but after a while she forced her eyes open again.

"Will you stay?" she breathed.

Hotch looked into her dark – beautiful, soulful - eyes and released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "For as long as you want," he said gently.

Her eyes closed again. "'Kay."

And then she was back to sleep.

Later that morning, Porter, Snipe and Mo came in for a visit while Hotch was still sitting there, now joined by Morgan and Garcia. Prentiss had been dozing on and off for a few hours and it so happened that she was still sleeping when the trio came in.

"We've arranged for her to be transferred to a DC hospital in a couple of hours," Porter said, his eyes riveted to her sleeping face. "So you guys can go home or return to work or whatever it is you guys do over there."

Morgan and Garcia exchanged a surprised look, but Hotch looked at Porter curiously for a moment. Despite all of his sarcasm, the man seemed to truly care for Prentiss, and Hotch looked at him with newfound respect.

"Thank you."

"Oh don't think I'm doing it for you, you're all starting to smell, I think showers are in order," he quipped with brief look at the others, but then he shrugged. "The doctors said they were going to release her soon anyway. She's doing great."

Hotch rose to his feet. "I'm going to stretch my legs for a bit, you guys are welcome to stay," he announced. "Anybody need anything?"

They all shook their heads no, so with one last look at Emily's sleeping form he left in search of food and coffee. The sun was shining outside, so he decided to go get some fresh air once he'd gotten coffee and a muffin from the cafeteria. Once outside, he picked his cell phone, and then sighed.

Erin Strauss had left him 11 messages over the last four hours. He knew what this was about and he was sorely tempted to just ignore it until he got back to DC, but he might as well just get this over with. _Here we go,_ Hotch closed his eyes briefly as he dialed her number.

"Agent Hotchner!" she sounded almost relieved that he was calling. "I've been hearing some pretty incredible rumors over the last few hours, it is true? Is Emily Prentiss alive?"

"Yes ma'am, she is. She was injured during the operation last evening, but she'll be okay."

There was a stunned silence for a good five seconds.

"How long have you been aware of her status?" she asked eventually, her tone returning to her usual formal tone.

"Since the beginning."

"Ah… Of course. I should have known. Who else knew about this?"

"Jennifer Jareau is the only other person I'm aware of, though other agencies were also aware of it."

"You mean the CIA?" she asked, and Hotch thought he could detect a hint of resentment in her tone.

"Yes."

"Is it also true that Ian Doyle is dead?"

"Yes."

"His son?"

"Understandably shaken by the turn of events, but otherwise unscathed."

"Good."

There was another pause, and Hotch waited patiently for her to bring up the other, less pleasant topic he knew she wanted to address.

"When are you flying back to DC?" she asked instead.

"Later this afternoon."

"Come and see me when you get here," she ordered, her tone brooking no argument.

Hotch sighed, pursing his lips. "Very well, I'll see you then."

"Good. And Aaron? Tell Emily Prentiss that we're all exceedingly relieved here at the FBI to hear that she is alive and well. It's wonderful news indeed."

"I will."

Hotch hung up with a sigh and sat on a nearby bench for a while, forearms resting on his thighs as he munched on his muffin absentmindedly.

He certainly had given Strauss a good reason to punish him this time, going expressly against her order _not _to get himself, or any other member of his team, involved with this case, but he couldn't regret it. Whatever way she decided to punish him for his insubordination, he knew that the team wouldn't have forgiven him if he had assisted Prentiss without involving them, and he absolutely could never regret being there for her when she needed it the most. What Strauss had asked of him had simply not been possible, and he felt deep down that Strauss had known he wouldn't be able to stand aside. It was the perfect opportunity for her to show that she was able to assert her authority over him, and though her constant scheming was annoying, Hotch knew why she was doing it. He shook his head. When would she understand that he wasn't her rival for promotion? All he'd ever wanted was to work with the BAU; he had no desire nor any intention to move up the ladder. But her own ambition was making her blind to all this. She'd been trying to teach him a lesson for years now, but Hotch despised those kinds of game and so had never let her.

And now she would make him pay for it.

But there would be time to worry about that later. For now he needed to focus on Prentiss.

His talk with Dave disturbed him a little. It reminded him that whatever happened between him and Emily, it would have repercussions on the team and that thought made him uneasy. It would be so easy to just pretend that what happened between them was _only_ between them, that it could have no consequences on the people they cared about. But Hotch knew that it wasn't realistic to think that way. Dave was right; their relationship had definitely changed, and people would notice, probably sooner than they'd be ready for it. They would have to confront the truth about this thing between them soon. Being straightforward with each other and make things clear would be the only way that they could deal with her return to the team.

As soon as she was better, he promised himself.

* * *

><p>End chapter 8<p> 


	9. Welcome Home Emily

Now on with the romance... :-)

**Chapter 9: Welcome Home Emily**

Emily's transfer to the DC hospital later that day coincided with her starting to feel better and not so much in the haze of her pain medication anymore. Unfortunately for the hospital personnel, a clearer mind also meant that she was becoming a bad patient; getting annoyed with anyone telling her that they couldn't release her yet, or that she needed to rest some more.

She was fine. She had lived through worst.

Her annoyance was somewhat lessened when she received a call from her mother. She had been on her list, so she had known that Emily had survived the previous year's injuries, but the two women had had no contact during Emily's exile. Though the conversation felt a little strained – they had never been really close – Emily was still touched by her mother taking the initiative to call her. Though Emily had an inkling that Hotch might be behind it.

Before she left North Carolina, her friends had come in to reassure her that they would come and visit her later that night in DC and stay with her if she wanted. It was sweet, but she had been a little more surprised by Porter, Snipe and Mo's coming to sit with her for a few minutes.

"Sorry we couldn't do what you asked," Snipe had said as they stood around her bed.

"What do you mean? You guys were great!" Emily had replied.

"Damian witnessed his father getting killed," Porter explained, "it was the one thing that mattered to you, and we screwed it up."

Emily shook her head. "It was my fault, I'm the one who steered away from the original plan. You did what you had to do, and I'm grateful that you were there when it counted."

"About that… Snipe and I've been arguing about who shot him first- I say it was me, but Snipe swears it was Hotchner." He paused. "Can you believe that? But even if it's true he couldn't have beat me by more than a millisecond."

Emily had smiled slightly at his own particular brand of Porter humor. "Thanks guys."

"I don't suppose our mighty director can convince you to stay, huh?" Porter had asked, turning a little bit more serious.

"I don't think so, no," Emily had replied, smiling a little sadly at their expression. "It's just not who I am anymore."

"It's been an honor, Agent Prentiss," Mo had said first, extending his hand to shake her uninjured one, but then he surprised her by kissing her knuckles. He winked. "Told you I'd collect."

Emily had chuckled a little, then shaken Snipe's hand, and then Porter's. "Thanks, partner," she'd told him.

He'd nodded quickly, and to Emily's utter surprise he'd looked like he'd been fighting tears. He'd always made himself look so tough and unemotional, Emily had the sudden urge to laugh, if only to tease him and lighten the mood.

They'd all gotten distracted by a shy knock on the open door, and Emily had seen Damian stand awkwardly, Maddy at his side, her hand on his shoulder.

"We should go now," Snipe had said. "Welcome home, Emily."

Emily gave the trio another grateful smile. "You take care guys. It's been a privilege."

She'd kept her conversation with Damian light, as she didn't quite feel up to answering his questions, or deal with any residual anger. He'd looked relieved to see that she was okay, but also a little wary, not quite knowing how to act around her. So they talked about anything except what had happened in the park – or before, for that matter. Before he'd left, Emily promised him that they could talk whenever he was ready. Though she didn't have a place to stay anymore, she told him that he could contact Hotch at the FBI, and he would tell him where he could find her, and then they would arrange a visit.

Damian had smiled at this, looking pleased that she wanted to see him again.

"And then we can talk about highschool, and all of your girlfriends, all that stuff that families talk about," Emily had added, his smile brightening even more.

And now she was in her hospital room in DC, alone with her thoughts and small TV, annoyed that she just couldn't go home. But that was just it; she didn't _have_ a home on the east coast anymore. Her mother, who was in Italy for work, had kindly offered that Emily stayed at her place, and Emily was busy thinking about the pros and cons when Garcia, Morgan and Reid appeared in the doorway to her room, each holding a gift of some kind – Morgan had flowers, Garcia had some kind of teddy bear and Reid a 'get well soon' balloon. They looked more rested than they had when she had seen them earlier as they greeted her happily.

Emily was happy for the distraction of their small talk for about half an hour, until they mentioned the BAU.

"I think Dave and Seaver were still busy with their reports. That's what you get when you're a slow writer," Morgan said.

"Yeah, and wasn't Hotch still in his office with Strauss?" Garcia asked conversationally.

"Yeah, I think he was," Reid confirmed, and Emily's interest sharpened at this.

"With Strauss? Why?" she asked, suddenly a little uneasy.

They exchanged looks and shrugs. "Who knows? My guess is that they're discussing your reinstatement or something like that," Morgan replied. He didn't sound worried, but Emily clearly remembered Hotch receiving a call from Strauss the day before – and it had not made him happy.

As if on cue, the phone in her room started ringing and Morgan picked up. "Hotch, yeah we were just… What?" His face fell and Emily sat straighter in her bed. "You've gotta be kidding me! Are you serious? Hotch, she can't do that…Yeah… Okay, but Hotch, come on!..." He sighed. "Okay, I'll tell them. 'Night." He hung up and Emily waited anxiously.

"Strauss just had him suspended!" he said incredulously.

"What! Why?" Reid asked, beating Emily to it by less than a second.

"Something about him going against her order to stay away or something!"

"Oh no! For how long?" Garcia cried.

"He didn't say!" Morgan replied, still a little stunned.

Emily closed her eyes as she shook her head. Of course. He had once more risked his neck for his team – for her. Why did have to do that? Why hadn't he told her that Strauss had been breathing down his neck? Why hadn't he told her that she'd wanted him off the case? Emily would have understood, she would have reassured him that it was okay for him to step away. But no, he had kept everything to himself! Stubborn man!

"He says that Strauss was relieved to hear you were alive, Emily," Morgan added as a second thought.

"Yeah, whatever! Who the hell does she think she is?" Emily replied angrily. "He was just trying to help! That ambitious bi-"

"Emily," Morgan cut her off, "you do know that you are not responsible for what she's doing, right?"

"Like hell I'm not! I'm the one who asked him for help in the first place! Why wouldn't he just tell me? Why couldn't he just go back on his promise?" She was so mad that she barely noticed them exchange awkward glances at this. "I need to call him, I need to-" she started as she reached for the phone by her bed, but Morgan stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Emily, he said he was going home to get some sleep."

"Do you think I care? I need to talk to him, there has to be something I can do-"

Morgan snatched the phone before she could reach it. "Emily, just give him some time. You know how he is, he just needs to process this by himself for a while. Call him tomorrow."

She blew out a breath when she realized that Morgan wouldn't budge, and let herself fall back against her pillows. "Fine."

"Good."

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, until Reid spoke again. "When are they releasing you?" he asked in a small voice.

Emily sighed. "Tomorrow."

"Where are you going to stay?" Morgan asked, and before Emily could open her mouth, Garcia jumped in.

"At my place, of course," she turned to Emily. "That is, if you want to?"

Emily smiled at her friend gratefully. For some reason she dreaded being alone, so she was relieved to hear Garcia suggest it. "I'd love that, thanks Garcia. But only for a few days, until I get my life back together somewhat."

Garcia took her hand. "You can stay for as long as you want! I'll be the best roommate ever – we can have movie nights, pizza nights, girls' night out…"

Morgan chuckled. "Oh boy, are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into, Prentiss? This is starting to sound like a remake of 'Misery'. A bad one."

Garcia slapped his shoulder playfully. "Don't listen to him! I'll come and pick you up first thing tomorrow!"

They left not long after that, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts once more. She was still mad at Hotch for not telling her. Why hadn't he? She could have made some calls, even go over Strauss' head to make sure that he wouldn't be subjected to any retaliation from her. But that was probably why he hadn't told her, she realized, he probably thought he was doing her a favor by keeping her out of the internal politics of the FBI. Damn it Hotch! She longed to call him and have him explain himself, but Morgan was right. He probably needed some time alone with his son right now. So she told herself that she would call him in the morning.

No opportunity to do that presented itself the next morning, however, as Garcia, Dave and Seaver showed up bright and early, just as the doctor was finishing his examination and the nurse showed her how to properly take care of her bandage and sling. Emily knew all about that – she had experience in that department – but she bore it as patiently as she could, figuring that the better she behaved, the sooner they would release her.

Emily spent the drive to Garcia's apartment content to just listen to the banter and light conversation between her friends, trying to push aside her concern for Hotch and enjoy her friends' company. Dave and Seaver hung around for most of the morning, and then Morgan showed up that afternoon, making sure that Emily was lacking nothing, that she was fed and entertained. It was sweet, but in time she started to find their hovering a little annoying – she felt awful about it, she knew that they were just trying to help, but at one point Emily just had to tell them that really, she was okay and that they just had to stop worrying.

That night she took a long bath, trying to keep her mind from thinking so much about everything while trying to ignore the almost constant pain and tugging she felt in her right arm. However she couldn't quite ignore the sight as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she dried. She touched her shoulder carefully, getting her first good look at the wound. It didn't look so bad, but the stitches would leave a scar, though a smaller one than the one that cut across her abdomen. And it was nothing compared to that awful clover etched into her skin above her heart. She knew some people wore their scars like badges of honor, like something to be proud of, but Emily felt nothing but shame as she looked at them. Would that feeling ever go away? She had always been comfortable in her body – she kept in shape and ate healthy most of the time – but the scars, and in particular the clover, made her feel a self-consciousness that she hadn't experienced since she was a teenager.

She couldn't help but think about Hotch, the only person – the only man – she had ever told about it. She had no reason to, but she couldn't help but wonder how he would feel if he saw it and her other scars. Would he find them repulsive? Would they remind him of Emily's past work when she had pretended to be in love a terrorist? She shivered at the memory, it made her feel dirty.

She sharply shook those thoughts away as she got dressed as best as she could, but she soon realized she'd need some help from Garcia with the bandage and the sling. She should have paid more attention at the hospital…

Garcia had to go back to work the next morning, so Emily was left alone for a while. She still hadn't heard from Hotch, and she was starting to feel uneasy. Was he somehow mad at her? Had she been too forward with her brief kiss? It had been an impulse – a rash decision that she should just do it in case she never got another chance. It had surprised him, that much she'd been able to tell, but his gaze had been impenetrable and she had been unable to see what he was thinking or feeling. So she had done what she did best: compartmentalize and push it aside for now. But now she was starting to feel that maybe she had made a mistake, maybe she had pushed their friendship too far – further than he was ready to take it.

She still longed to call him, but it was delayed once more when she got a call from JJ. It was a wonderful surprise, and they chatted for a while, JJ expressing her joy at hearing that Emily's secret was out and that she was safe again. Her call wasn't all pleasure, however, as she was calling to request that Emily come in to fill in some paperwork - but hey, Emily was ready to do anything to make herself un-dead again. So as soon as she was dressed and ready, she took a cab and spent the day at the State department, enjoying lunch with JJ, reminiscing about the good old days and getting countless stories about Henry.

"I heard Hotch was suspended," JJ said eventually.

Emily shook her head. "Yeah… That's really unfair."

JJ looked empathetic. "I know. I wish there was something I could do, but unfortunately it's out of my reach."

"Yeah, I know. I wish I could have done something too, but he kept it all to himself until it was too late."

JJ chuckled fondly. "Yeah, well, that's Hotch for you."

JJ asked her how the others had reacted to her reappearance, and Emily told her about the team's reactions, and how she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. They were bound to get angry with her eventually. She could tell when they interacted that they had questions, but they were too polite to ask them now. She assumed that when they figured it was time to get an explanation, all hell would break loose.

JJ also asked her what her plans for the future were, but Emily was still in the dark about that. She still hadn't heard anything from the FBI, but she figured it would take time for her paperwork to be processed and she wasn't expecting them to contact her for another few days. Of course she wasn't even sure that they would want her back, but she was at least expecting some kind of formal acknowledgment to welcome her back to the land of the living, or something. So Emily was honest with JJ when she told her that she truly didn't know what her plans were – she was hoping to get reinstated at the BAU, but there had been no development from that quarter. And she figured that with Hotch suspended, her request might be put on hold for a while.

They promised to see each other soon when they parted, and when Emily got to Garcia's place, her friend had not returned from work yet, but had left a message on the answering machine saying that they had a case and that she wouldn't be back for a while- well, she knew how it was.

Emily helped herself to some leftover pizza – Garcia had made good on her promise the night before – and turned on the TV, but she soon became restless, her mind overactive with flashes about today's business, Hotch's suspension, Damian's anger when they had talked the first time, her confrontation with Doyle, the look in his eyes when he thought he'd beat her – and then the shock when she pulled her second gun and pulled the trigger.

She jumped to her feet, grabbed her bag and the keys that Garcia had left for her, and called a cab. About twenty minutes later she was standing outside Hotch's place, facing the door in indecision. Her decision to come here had been far from rational – another impulse - and now that she was here she was starting to doubt the wisdom of her just showing up unannounced.

But then she decided that she'd come all this way, she might as well just go with it. She knocked, and it took only a minute or so before she heard the lock and the door pulled open, revealing a somewhat surprised Hotch.

"Hey," Emily greeted, butterflies dancing frantically in her stomach when she saw him. He still hadn't shaved, and though Emily still loved that look on him, she wondered whether it was a bad omen for how he'd been dealing with his suspension. Whatever the case, he obviously hadn't expected her to come here, as he still hadn't said anything, but merely stood staring at her.

"Can I come in?" Emily asked when she started to get self-conscious under his steady gaze.

"Of course, please," he snapped out of it and stood aside to let her in. "Jack and I just finished eating, but can I offer you anything? We were going to have ice cream for dessert, can I tempt you with some?"

Emily shook her head as she followed him through his house and into the kitchen. "Oh no, I'm fine, thanks."

"Some tea, then?"

"Tea, would be great, yes, thanks," she agreed as she sat at the table, looking around. The house was as impeccably clean as she remembered it, except that the fridge and even the walls were now covered with Jack's drawings and other artworks. She spotted Jack himself sitting in the living room, watching 'Finding Nemo' with a focus that he could only have gotten from his father.

"Are you sure you told him about the ice cream?" Emily asked teasingly, "'cause he doesn't seem to know…"

Hotch smiled. "'Finding Nemo' is his favorite. He could watch it uninterrupted for hours if I let him."

"Hmm… The story of a single father who goes onto this epic journey to rescue his abducted son… I wonder why."

He threw her a quick look over his shoulder as he got two cups from the cupboard, but remained silent, and Emily was starting to think that maybe she had crossed a line. She knew his family life with Jack was sacred, had she offended him? "Sorry," she said after a moment.

He shook his head as he returned to sit at the table with her. "No, you're right. I just wish the father figure was any character other than a clownfish."

Emily smiled in relief. "I hear ya," she agreed with a brief chuckle.

"So how are you feeling?" Hotch asked seriously as he rested his elbow on the table, absentmindedly stroking the salt and pepper hair on his jaw.

"I'm fine," she said, though she could see that he didn't totally buy it. She tried shrugging, but – bad mistake! She winced in pain. "It's still kind of tender," she admitted through clenched teeth.

He raised his hand, his expression empathetic, as if looking for a way to help her in some way, but there was none, so he lowered it on the table again. "I heard you're staying with Garcia."

"Yeah, it's been ah… something."

He smiled a little at this. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Seriously, though, I truly am grateful. She's been incredible."

Hotch nodded and Emily watched him for a moment as he stared down at his hand on the table. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked at last.

He looked a little confused as he frowned. "I thought Morgan told-"

"I mean before. Why didn't you tell me that Strauss wanted you off the case?"

He rose to his feet to go take care of the boiling water. "Because it wouldn't have changed anything."

Emily followed him, standing next to him as he poured water and got the tea bags. "Of course it would have! Hotch, I could have done something about it, I could have-"

"Then she would have found another way to punish me for letting you go over her head, you know how it is, Emily." He shook his head. "It wouldn't have changed anything, and you had other things to worry about."

She let out a sigh. "How long?"

"Three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Emily repeated in astonishment. "Hotch, that's-"

"What she requested," he finished for her.

She huffed in amazement. "I don't get you, how can you be so calm?"

He frowned as he offered the mug to her free hand, and they walked back to the table. "I don't think calm is quite the right word. But, I guess I'm trying to think of this as an opportunity."

Emily was confused. "An opportunity for what?"

"To think about what I want," he said, his intense gaze settling on her face.

Emily's heart skipped a beat as she held his stare. She didn't dare ask him what _that_ was. "Are you having some kind of mid-life crisis or something?" she asked lightly instead, with a small chuckle.

He raised an amused eyebrow. "I guess you could call it that."

"Hotch, you're not seriously thinking about leaving, are you?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"The BAU?" He shook his head. "No. I don't think I'm ready for that."

"Well then… I don't understand, what-" she stopped mid-sentence when his eyes purposefully rose to hers, holding the gaze steadily, meaningfully, intensely.

Oh. _Oh. _

Emily felt a blush rise up her neck to her cheeks as she tried to hold his suddenly burning look, her breath catching in her throat and her heart pounding. After a second she just had to look away and she swallowed with difficulty as she let out a nervous chuckle.

"I ah…"

He stopped her babble before she could ever start with his fingers circling hers, making her look back up.

"I don't think I'm being presumptuous when I say…That's three weeks for us to figure out what we want from this," he said with all the seriousness and intensity that characterized him.

She let out a nervous chuckle again. "That's… Three weeks suddenly seem very short."

"Yes, I know. But I think we have options, and I think we need to consider them all carefully."

Emily held his gaze, her heart beating erratically against her chest. She could hardly believe that they were actually talking about their relationship, and that he actually seemed willing to consider it. But what if that meant that she couldn't return to the BAU? It had been her dearest wish for months… could she just give it up so she could find out where this thing with Hotch could take them? It was one hell of a risk, and one hell of a choice.

A little shaken, she rose to her feet and he imitated her, the movement bringing them much closer than both had anticipated. Emily gasped as she found herself in his personal space; she could feel his breath in her hair and the mere heat emanating from him made her skin buzz to life. With her wearing flat shoes, he was taller by a few more inches than she was used to and her nose came to his chin. Slowly she raised her eyes to his and found that he was staring at her intently once more, his breathing shallow but even as they stood only a couple of inches apart.

His left hand came up to touch a lock of her hair delicately, his fingers slowly moving to graze her cheek, his movements careful, as if afraid that she would break. Or bolt. But Emily had no intention of doing either, so she closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. She felt him move a little closer and his touch became more confident as his fingers slid under her chin to tilt her head up, their breaths mingling.

"Daddy?"

Emily jumped back, her eyes flying open and her hand going up to cover her mouth as they both turned to find Jack standing a few feet away, looking between the two of them.

"Jack!" Hotch exclaimed, sounding a little breathless. "Is there something wrong with the DVD?"

The boy shook his head, his eyes still on Emily, observing her curiously. Emily smiled and waved. "Hey Jack! I'm Emily, do you remember me?"

He merely stared silently.

Hotch's hand slid down her arm in a feather light touch before he moved away and walked to his son, escorting him back to the living room. She let out a long shaky breath, clearing her throat to find her composure again.

"Can I have my ice cream now?" Jack was asking.

"Sure, I'll bring it to you, alright?"

"I can have it in the living room?" Jack asked incredulously.

"Just this once, okay?" Hotch replied, making Emily smile a little.

As much as she yearned to continue this conversation, Emily thought it might be better if they left it at that for now. She needed some time to process all this - what he'd said, and what they had almost done - and she was pretty sure that he did too. She had too often jumped into relationships without taking the time to get used to them, and she didn't want to do that with Hotch. It was too important. _He_ was too important.

When Hotch came back Emily was standing closer by the door, her bag around her good shoulder. He seemed a little disappointed to find her there, but not entirely surprised. He joined her but kept his distance, as he had apparently come to similar conclusions.

"Sorry, he's…" Hotch started with a shake of the head.

"No worries, he's probably got some questions."

"Yes…" He paused, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. "Will you think about what I said?" he asked.

Emily let out a brief laugh. "Yeah, as if I could think about anything else…" she admitted and he gave her a half-smile.

"Actually," Emily started again on a lighter tone, "I'll be apartment hunting over the next few days. If you're free…"

"I'd be glad to help. Just let me know in advance so that I can find someone to look over Jack."

They stared in each other's eyes for a long moment as Emily stood a little awkwardly, not sure what to do. He wasn't making any moves towards her… Making up her mind and staying good on her promise to herself, she smiled and reached out with her good hand to stroke his arm until it slid down to his hand and she squeezed his fingers.

"I'll call you tomorrow, then," she said as she moved and he released her fingers, reluctantly it seemed.

"Good."

Emily threw him one last look over her shoulder before she opened the door and hurried out before she changed her mind, releasing a long breath as she walked down the corridor.

* * *

><p>Garcia wasn't home when Emily came back, making her feel almost like an outsider, looking into the BAU life without taking part in it. Was that how Hotch's wife had felt all those years? Knowing what he was doing, but without knowing the details? Emily couldn't quite imagine living that kind of life – she was an action person, she needed to be in the middle of it, or not at all. At least when she'd been away in Minnesota, she had been blissfully oblivious to that life and she'd only had her memories to make her long for BAU work.<p>

Emily didn't sleep much at all that night, her nerves on high and her head threatening to burst with thoughts of Hotch, anxieties and possibilities. So when Garcia came home around 4:30, Emily was sitting on the couch, looking for housing ads on the internet. It sucked to type in words with just one hand, but she was starting to get the hang of it.

"What are you doing still up?" Garcia asked as she spotted her and dropped herself next to her on the couch.

"Can't sleep," Emily merely said, smiling at her friend. "How was the case?"

"Oh, you know. Horrifying, as usual. Watcha looking at?"

"Apartments."

"I told you, you can stay here for as long as you want!"

"Oh I know. But I can't stay here forever. Besides, I need my own place if I want to go get my dog."

Garcia looked at her curiously. "You have a dog?"

Emily nodded. It felt strange to talk about it with Garcia, it felt like she was mixing two worlds that couldn't quite blend together. "Yeah, her name's Ambassador."

Garcia smiled. "Ambassador?" she repeated. "Does your mom know about this?"

"Of course not. And she never will."

Garcia giggled. "And where is that dog of yours?"

"Northern Minnesota."

Garcia frowned for a second, repeating the two words to herself as if they sounded familiar, and then her whole face changed in realization. "Oh my God!" She jumped to her feet, her hand to her chest as she stared at Emily incredulously. "Oh. My. God! You're that woman that Hotch wanted me to investigate but then said didn't fit the profile! I couldn't find anything on her and I thought that was _so_ suspicious!"

Emily rose to her feet as well and nodded, keeping a careful eye on her friend as she did so; she looked about ready to hyperventilate. "Yeah. It was my alias. Emmeline Pollard."

"Oh my God!" she cried again. "But then… he knew?"

"Yes, we met unexpectedly over the course of his investigation," Emily said, not sure whether she should tell her that Hotch had known all along. "Seaver also found out on that trip."

"Oh my God! They knew all this time but didn't say a word?" She was tearing up and Emily was torn, not knowing what to do.

"Only because they knew that the less people knew the truth, the safer I was. And the safer you all were!" she explained quickly. "It wasn't their secret to reveal, Garcia. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry about all this!" Emily exclaimed, her voice shaking with emotion. Oh how she hated to hurt her closest friends!

Garcia nodded numbly for a few seconds, her lower lip shaking. "Wow, that's… a lot to take in."

Emily nodded silently, not sure what to say and trying to figure out what her friend was thinking. She was shocked, that much was obvious, but was she hurt? Angry? All of the above?

"Wow," Garcia repeated… "I think I need to sleep on this," she said with a frown.

"Garcia! You do understand why it had to stay secret, though right?" Emily tried once more, needing some reassurance that they would eventually be okay.

Garcia nodded absentmindedly, but then started walking to her room, almost zombie-like. "I need to get some sleep." And the door closed behind her.

And there it was, Emily thought. The stupid shoe had finally caught up with her.

When Emily woke up the next morning after only a couple hours of restless sleep, she found Garcia perched on her bed, all dressed for work and two coffee mugs in hand, watching her quietly.

"Oh you scared me!" Emily breathed as she sat up as best as she could without jolting her arm.

"Call it retaliation," Garcia said with some humor as she handed Emily one of the coffee mugs.

"I guess I deserved that," she replied.

"And so much more."

Emily nodded with a frown. "Yeah, I know. You're right."

"I'm just kidding, Emily," Garcia said gently as she rubbed her knee. "I'm not really angry with you. I do get why you did what you had to do. It was just a lot to take in, to know that Hotch and Seaver knew and just kept it all to themselves. How hard that must have been for him, and for Seaver."

Emily grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers. "You're too good for me, Penelope Garcia. I don't deserve you."

Garcia smiled brightly, but then shushed her with her hand. "Bah, nobody does," she quipped.

"Come here, then," Emily said with a smile as she opened her good arm as an invitation for a hug and Garcia happily took it, though she was careful not to squeeze too tightly or to touch her shoulder, or not to drop coffee.

After pulling back, Garcia jumped back to her feet, back to her chipper self. "So, if you want to go apartment hunting later, we're not planning on working a case today, so I should be out by 4pm if you'd like some company?"

Emily found herself blushing. "Ah, actually, Hotch has already offered to help me with that."

That seemed to surprise her. "Hotch? As in SSA Aaron Hotchner?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh… Alright then, well let me know if you need another woman's opinion."

"Will do," Emily smiled as her friend leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

And on that Garcia left for work.

* * *

><p>End chapter 9<p> 


	10. Secrets to Reveal

**Chapter 10: This Secret You're Trying to Conceal…Is the Same One You're Dying to Reveal**

Hotch hadn't had a much better night than Emily. After she left, he'd tried broaching the subject with Jack, just to try and prepare him, but Jack had been stubbornly uninterested, so Hotch had dropped it for the moment, knowing that his son had to get used to the idea and that it would take time. He was now at an age when he would start to understand what was going on, so Hotch knew he had to thread carefully.

Later as he lay in bed, his mind kept going back to his conversation with Emily, her deer-caught-in-headlights expression when she had understood what he was referring to. Despite her obvious surprise, she had blushed prettily under his stare, a clear sign that she wasn't immune to their change in relationship either. As seriously and cautiously as he was considering the whole thing, he couldn't stop that indescribable burst of emotion as he witnessed that simple response from her.

And then there was their near-miss. They had been standing so close, and Hotch had felt the fire pulse through his veins - something he hadn't felt in a very long time - as he'd felt her tremble under his touch, their breaths intermingling for a couple of interminable and wonderful seconds.

Jack's interruption had been either extremely bad timing, or exceptionally good karma – depending on one's point of view. Admittedly Hotch was torn between the two; on one hand he'd wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap and kiss her with everything he had, while on the other he was also very careful to move slowly so as not to misstep. This was new to both of them, and Hotch needed to make sure he was doing the right thing – whatever it was.

The next morning was kindergarten for Jack, so Hotch got him ready and made sure he got onto the school bus. Not long after that Emily called, saying that she had made three appointments for viewings later that afternoon, if Hotch was still available and willing. He quickly assured her that it was the case, so they made arrangements for him to pick her up at Garcia's. They kept their conversation light and to the point over the phone, without any awkward pauses or references to the night before.

She greeted him with a warm smile when he went to pick her up that afternoon and they soon set off for her first appointment in Georgetown. After the usual greetings, they rode mostly in silence but it wasn't as comfortable or companionable as Hotch would have wished. They obviously both had things on their minds that they weren't quite ready to say out loud yet, and Hotch could feel the tension that seemed to permeate the air in the car. After a few minutes he asked her about what kind of housing she was looking for, and that seemed to ease up the tension as she started talking animatedly about her requirements – not the least of which being a pet-friendly building. She told him about the a priori pros and cons for each of the houses they'd be visiting today, asking for his opinion about this and that, so that by the time they'd reached the first place, they were conversing amicably.

She seemed to like the first studio, but she wasn't entirely sure about the location – it was too close to campus and there was too much noise from the road. She joked that living by a lake had made her more sensitive to noise than she'd ever been before.

They moved on to the next one, which was a bit closer to where she used to live before. As she walked around the different rooms with the building manager, Hotch was content to simply watch her as she moved around. Despite her showing nothing but the conventional reserved interest, Hotch could tell that she was getting excited about this particular one, and he understood why: it was both elegant and homey, and the brick wall in the living room added something spunky to the place. It was _her_. It was a perfect fit. At one point she threw him an enthusiastic look over her shoulder and Hotch couldn't help but smile a little, a warm feeling of pleasure spreading throughout his chest at seeing her this excited.

When they got back in the car, she chatted about her positive feeling about that last one, but she still wanted to see the third one, just in case. Hotch thought to himself that he would be happy to do this with her all day if that's what it took, but didn't say it out loud.

As Hotch had anticipated, she wasn't as thrilled about that last one, so after they were done with the visit she decided to not waste any time and call for an application to the second house they had seen.

As she spoke to the manager over the phone, Hotch thought back with some amusement to the fact that all three landlords and managers who had showed them around had assumed they were a couple. It wasn't all that surprising, but the interesting thing was that neither he nor Emily had corrected their mistake, and he wasn't sure why. Was it just too much trouble to explain to strangers how complicated or transitional their relationship was at the moment or was this some kind of acknowledgment that things _were _changing? Whatever the case, they had neither confirmed nor denied it.

When she was done with her phone conversation, Hotch suggested dinner and she agreed readily. "Let me just call Garcia, make sure she doesn't wait for me," she said as she grabbed her phone again. Hotch couldn't help but listen in on her side of the conversation.

"Hey Garcia… I just wanted to tell you not to expect me for dinner, we're going to grab some food now." There was a pause as Garcia spoke, and Emily threw him a quick look. "Yeah, with Hotch." She chuckled a little awkwardly, her eyes on her lap, and Hotch furrowed his brows in curiosity at what Garcia was telling her. "Yeah, I'll be back in a couple hours, I'll tell you all about it then." She hung up and put her phone back in her purse.

"Are you sure that's wise? Telling her?" Hotch asked, throwing her quick glances as he drove.

She looked a little confused for a second, but then seemed to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, no! No, I was just talking about the apartments. No I don't think it would be wise to tell her anything about… well, us, until… you know…"

Hotch couldn't help feeling a little amused at her babbling, so he reached over and took her left hand in his briefly so he could squeeze her fingers. "I know." What she'd meant to say was that it wouldn't be wise to say anything until they _themselves_ had figured out what was going on.

She smiled and Hotch released her hand, returning his to the steering wheel. They stayed silent for a few minutes, but it wasn't very long before he could feel her steady and sharp profiler gaze on him.

"You shaved," she stated eventually, surprising Hotch with the suddenness of the question – they had been together all afternoon, had she just noticed now? It certainly wasn't what he had expected her to say.

He threw her another quick look as his hand rose instinctively to his clean-shaven chin. "Yes… You sound disappointed," he said in confusion. Didn't most women prefer clean-shaven men? Haley had certainly never liked it much when he forewent shaving on the weekends or sometimes when he was on vacation. But then again, Emily and Haley were as different from each other as night and day, so it was no use to even try to assume that he knew anything about Emily because he'd been married to Haley for years.

Emily shrugged slightly as she studied him. "I don't know… I kind of liked it. It was like seeing another side of you."

Hotch half-smiled. "And what side was that?"

When he threw her another look his heart skipped a beat to find her blushing. "A more intimate one."

Hotch was struck speechless for a second – she had thrown him off balance once more - but then cleared his throat. "Well… though I don't like to go to work unshaven, I'll certainly keep your valuable opinion in mind for future reference."

She smiled. "So where are we going? I'm starving!"

They decided on a friendly and small Italian restaurant not too far from Garcia's. They talked some more about the apartments as they waited for their orders. When they got their plates, Hotch soon noticed that she was a little clumsy eating pasta with her left hand.

"How is your shoulder?" he asked.

"Better," she said with a nod. "I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, but it feels fine. It only hurts when I forget and jostle my arm or make a rash movement."

"That's good."

"I might need to do some physical therapy, though," she added.

"Is that a bad thing?" Hotch asked as he saw her expression turn somber.

"No! No, of course not." She was convincing, but no, he wasn't buying it.

Hotch put down his fork and leaned a little forward, resting his arms on the table to better look at her. "Tell me," he encouraged.

She sighed and looked away in that way she did when she was searching for the right words to say something that would make her appear vulnerable. "What if… What if I can't pass the physical fitness test when it's time?"

"You think your arm won't regain its full strength?"

"What if my injury is what keeps me from being reinstated at the BAU?"

Hotch shook his head. "That's not going to happen."

"You sound so sure."

"That's because I know you, and I know that Emily Prentiss never backs down from a challenge."

She smiled almost shyly as she looked down, shaking her head slowly to deflect the compliment. "Wow… You have more confidence in me than I do at the moment. It seems to be a recurring theme lately."

Hotch looked down, understanding that she was talking about the days they'd spent working on finding Doyle.

"But I am grateful," she added seriously. "I know you said to stop thanking you, but I just had to say it one last time, because it's true."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "Now let _me_ say this, one last time," he paused to make sure she was looking him in the eye, "it was an honor."

She looked at him, a little hopeful, a little incredulously, one corner of her mouth turning upwards. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Hotch assured her. As Hotch got lost into her wide, dark eyes, he had to fight the urge to kiss her again. It would be so easy – all he had to do was lean a little closer over the table, and if she met him half-way… But no, this wasn't the place, so he kept himself in check and returned to his food.

They spent the rest of the meal talking about lighter things, especially after Emily asked him how Jack was doing in kindergarten. Hotch was all too happy to comply, as there was nothing easier for him to talk about than his son. All too soon, it seemed, it was time to go, and it wasn't very long before Hotch was parked in double in front of Garcia's building.

Hotch was intrigued when she didn't move to get out right away, but rather sat quietly, her gaze looking out her window, facing away from him. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you – a favor of sorts," she said eventually as she turned her head in his direction.

Hotch merely raised his eyebrows in encouragement.

She bit her cheek. "I've been thinking about going back to Minnesota, maybe just for a few days. Not only to get my dog, but also… I feel like I have some explaining to do to my friends there. I left them abruptly, and that wasn't really fair. They deserve to know the truth."

Hotch nodded, waiting patiently.

She looked at her hands, suddenly looking nervous. "Would you… Would you come with me? Like I said, it would only be for a few days, and it would be…"

Her words came to a halt as he gently took her hand and she raised her eyes back to his. "If that's what you want, then of course." He gave a little shrug. "I just assumed that when you went back there you would want to be alone for a while."

She shook her head as she glanced at his hand covering hers. "I've been alone long enough."

"Then I'll be happy to," Hotch said.

She squeezed his fingers and smiled, then leaned in towards him, as if to kiss his cheek, but suddenly stopped half-way, as if something had just occurred to her. "You don't suppose Garcia has spy cams all over her neighborhood, do you?"

Hotch smiled slightly, but tugged on her hand a little to keep her moving. "I wouldn't put it past her," he said as he also leaned towards her.

"I'll just have to risk it," she said with a sly smile when they were so close he could feel her breath on his chin. He could tell by the humor in her voice that she'd only meant to kiss his cheek or something similarly innocent, but Hotch had other ideas. At the last moment he tilted his head and caught her lips with his instead, delighting in their warmth and softness for the two seconds they stayed there. Once she got over her surprise, she pulled back far enough to look into his eyes and Hotch held her gaze, unmoving, holding his breath. On its own volition, his hand rose to tangle his fingers into her incredibly soft hair, his thumb caressing her skin just below her ear.

She closed her eyes at his touch, sighing softly, and Hotch bridged the gap again, taking advantage of her open lips to kiss her more fully. She immediately leaned into him and he felt her cool fingers slide around his neck as she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth a little more and returning each of his slow caresses with one of her own. Hotch took his time, relishing in the slow discovery and in every sigh or soft moan that escaped her as they pulled back only to come clashing together again. It was intoxicating, _she_ was intoxicating, and Hotch thought that he could never get enough of this.

She pulled back eventually and her hand slid around to briefly touch his cheek as they both breathed heavily, their heads close together. "I should go," she breathed, though she didn't make any move to move away.

Hotch nodded as his fingers brushed her hair back, making her look up again.

"I'll call you," she said as she slowly leaned back and returned to her seat, her hand sliding down his arm as she did.

Hotch watched her, unable to speak, as she exited the car, closed the door and walked up the path to the building entrance. Then he leaned his head back against the headrest and let out a long, long, steadying breath.

* * *

><p>Emily's legs were still unsteady by the time she made it to Garcia's. As she stood before the door, she straightened her clothes and hair a little, thankful not have been wearing lipstick. Boy, could that man kiss! Still slightly breathless and head reeling, she blushed at the memory, but then shook her head to clear it, taking a deep breath to find her composure before she went in. When she felt somewhat more composed, she opened the door and walked in, trying to look normal, and not like her heart was pounding like crazy in her chest or like she'd just been making out with Aaron Hotchner.<p>

Garcia was sitting on the couch with her laptop in her lap.

"Hey," Emily smiled as she joined her and dropped herself next to her.

"How was your date with Hotch?" Garcia said, joking, but only then did Emily truly realize that they _had_ in fact just been on a date: dinner, flirting and a kiss goodnight? Yes. Definitely a date. The thought made the butterflies in her stomach dance frantically.

"Ha ha," Emily said in a 'very funny' kind of tone, hoping that the dimmed lights would hide her blush and the fact that she seemed not to be able to stop smiling.

"I mean come on," Garcia pressed, "you guys seem to be getting pretty chummy. Apartment hunting? Dinner? It almost sounds like you're friends now," she quipped.

Emily smiled to herself – oh if she only knew! But then she decided to at least agree with Garcia that things _had_ changed. "I guess you're right. This whole thing with Doyle… It _has_ brought us closer. He's been there by my side without flinching through the whole damn thing…" she shook her head at the memory. "I'm still kind of amazed, actually."

"Wow…"

"What?"

Garcia shrugged a little. "I just think it's sweet that he was there for you when the rest of us couldn't."

Emily raised a teasing eyebrow. "Last night you were mad at him because of it, and now you think it's sweet?"

"A girl can change her mind, can't she?"

"Yeah, she sure can."

"So, tell me all about those apartments you saw! I wanna know all about it!"

* * *

><p>The next morning Morgan offered to take her to the hospital for her follow-up appointment before he had to go to work, so Emily gladly accepted, though she couldn't help the feeling of dread that knotted her stomach. She knew that it was only a matter of time before he demanded some explanations, and though Emily was as ready to face him as she'd ever be, his reaction made her anxious. Of all her friends, she knew that he would be the one to feel her betrayal the most acutely, and also be the one to take the longest to forgive her.<p>

But Derek Morgan was her partner – she respected him too much to dodge his questions any longer, and she hoped that he would forgive her…in time. Emily was determined, and she would not give up on their friendship even if it took years of mending up what she had broken by her deception.

He greeted her with a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, so Emily prepared herself. They made small talk for a while as they discussed what they had each been doing over the last few days - he asked her about her shoulder and apartments, and she asked him about the case. Hotch being suspended, Morgan was back being in charge and though he appreciated the responsibilities, he told her how it was also a burden sometimes.

"So Hotch's known all along, huh?" he said, more a statement than a question.

He knew about that? "Did Garcia tell you?"

He gave her a surprised look. "Garcia? No! Rossi told me. You told Garcia? Were you going to tell _me _or were you just hoping that I'd never find out?" he asked, his tone getting angrier.

_Here we go_, she thought as she took in a deep breath. "Of course I was going to tell you! Today, as a matter of fact."

He seemed to ignore her comment. "So what's the deal with Hotch? Why was he the lucky one?" What he was truly asking was: 'why did you tell him and not _me?_'

Emily shook her head. She didn't really have a valid answer to that, even when she asked herself that same question. "He was my boss, I felt he needed to know!" she replied defensively.

"And I was your _partner_! Didn't that count too?"

"Derek, if I could have told you all, I would have. But that would have defeated the purpose! Doyle had directly threatened you – all of you – and I couldn't let him use you to find out the truth! It was just too much of a risk!"

"But you still told Hotch!"

Emily remained silent, at a loss as to what she could say to make him understand. Deciding whom to tell had been a rash decision, made just before she'd gone into surgery. She had been afraid at the time – terrified that Doyle would come and find her, or her beloved team. She understood Morgan's feelings of betrayal, really; by leaving and lying to him, she'd told him that she didn't trust him. That was the ultimate insult for a man who had told her time and again that she could tell him anything. That she could trust him.

After a second, he let out a humorless smile. "I have to admit, the man does know how to keep a secret." He shook his head angrily. "All that time he was asking us to talk about our feelings, trying to 'assess' how we were doing… He knew, and he had the balls to just sit there and pretend that he was as devastated as we all were!"

Emily stared at him, wide-eyed, at this new information. Hotch had never told her about any of that. "It wasn't his secret to reveal, Derek," Emily said eventually, repeating her earlier words to Garcia, awakening her buried guilt at the thought of what she had put Hotch through – he, who hated deception of any sort. How angry he must have been with her to make him live with a secret that wasn't his in the first place! Having to lie was probably worst for him than to be lied to. "Come to think of it, I think he would have rather not known. It was just an added weight to his shoulders. Don't pin this on him Morgan! You know how he must have _hated_ having to lie to you all!"

"But he still did it."

"Because he understood it was the only way to keep all of us safe."

He fell silent after this, but Emily could feel the waves of anger emanating from him and she wondered what to do, what she could possibly say that would make things better. They pulled into the hospital parking lot and though he still escorted her through the doors, they walked in silence.

"I felt like I didn't know who you were anymore," he said with a frown as they sat in the waiting room, waiting for the doctor to come and get her. "I felt like all this time we'd spent together had all been a lie."

Emily's heart sank and she could feel tears prickling behind her eyelids. She bit them back. "But it wasn't, Derek. I understand how learning about my past work might have been a shock, but I _swear_, nothing about our relationship has ever been a pretense. Nothing."

"Miss Prentiss? The Doctor will see you now," a nurse interrupted and Emily rose to her feet, her eyes still on Morgan. He was still looking stubbornly at the floor, sitting with his forearms on his thighs.

"You don't have to wait, I can just take a cab back, if you'd rather," Emily suggested, understanding that he needed some time.

He looked up, looking insulted by her suggestion. "What? Of course I'll wait!"

"Okay."

Emily gave him one last look, a little reluctant to leave it like this, but she couldn't just stand there all day, so she followed the nurse. The doctor was pretty satisfied with the way her shoulder was healing, so he authorized her to lose the sling if she felt like letting her arm loose wasn't too much of a strain for her shoulder. There was no sign of infection around her stitches and the skin was starting to mend around them. He told her the stitches would dissolve in a few days and that she should make appointments for physical therapy starting the next week. He warned her not to push it, that she had to give it time. Emily nodded in agreement – she knew that making a false move would only delay her recovery, so she was prepared to follow doctor's orders and not push herself too hard. It would be difficult, but she just had to do it – there was too much at stake.

When she returned to the waiting room, Morgan was still sitting in pretty much the same position as before. He looked up when she stepped into his line of vision.

"How did it go?" he asked as he rose to his feet.

"Satisfactory progress," she replied as they started walking. Morgan kept silent, so Emily did too. The best thing to do at this point was probably to simply wait him out for the time being.

Once in front of Garcia's building though, Emily couldn't hold herself back anymore, so she turned to better face him. "Derek listen… I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But I want you to know that if there's one thing you can be sure about, is that I truly am sorry. About all of it, about leaving and about having to lie… I'm sorry I left you in the dark for so long. It wasn't fair, and if I could go back I would do it all differently."

He nodded in acknowledgment, but didn't say anything, so Emily unbuckled her seat belt and quietly stepped out of the car.

"Emily," he called just as she was about to shut the door. He bit his lip for a second as he looked at her. "Just give me some time…" he started and then: "But thanks… for coming back."

Emily gave him an understanding smile. "You guys are everything to me. I couldn't have let it go any other way. Thanks, for driving me."

"It's what friends are for, right?"

"Right… I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah."

She nodded gratefully. "Okay." She exchanged one last look with him, then straightened up and closed the door, letting out a relieved sigh. She hadn't realized how much of a weight keeping this inside had been, but now Emily felt like she was on a roll, and needed to make her apologies to the rest of the team sooner rather than later.

Later that morning it so happened Emily was called to Quantico by the Head office. They didn't say what it was about, but it made Emily extremely nervous. She decided to go in early so that she could pay a visit to her friends at the BAU and maybe make her apologies to the rest of the team.

"Look who's here!" Reid said from his desk as she got off the elevator and walked through the BAU doors. Emily smiled as he, then Seaver came to greet her happily, and seconds later Dave was coming down the stairs, along with Morgan.

"How are you feeling?" Reid asked just as Seaver was saying: "What are you doing here?"

Emily smiled at how genuinely happy they appeared to be at seeing her. "I'm fine! I thought I'd pay you guys a surprise visit before you left for God knows where," Emily grinned.

"You just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh?" Dave asked teasingly.

"Something like that – they want to see me upstairs," Emily replied with a grimace, showing them her visitor's pass.

"Did they say what they want?" Morgan asked.

"I'm afraid not. Anyways, I just wanted to say 'hi'! Are you guys off now?"

"In a few minutes, yeah," Morgan replied as he looked at his watch.

"I won't keep you, then."

They all wished her their best and good luck as they turned away to start getting ready for their case.

"Rossi, Reid, can I… can I talk to you for a second?" Emily asked on impulse just as they were about to leave.

They exchanged a look. "Of course," Dave said.

Emily frowned as she searched for the right words to start, her fingers fidgety. "I just wanted you guys to know… I know… that this isn't enough, but I just wanted you guys to know that I'm sorry about all of this, about what I put you through. I know it'll take time before you feel like you can trust me again, but.. I just wanted you to know that at least."

"It's okay," Reid gave her a small smile.

"We understand why you did what you did," Dave chimed in, surprising Emily a little. After Garcia and Morgan, she'd just expected another shocked and angry reaction.

Reid nodded in agreement. "And telling Hotch was the right thing to do – I mean he's the unit chief, the only one who could actually do something to help," Reid added wisely, and Emily stared between the two of them in astonishment for a second. Why were they making this so easy for her? She deserved their anger!

She shook her head in amazement. "I love you guys. Seriously. You're too good for me."

"We're just glad you're okay," Dave said as he gave her a smile and squeezed her good arm.

Emily smiled gratefully, feeling the emotion rise up in her throat. "All right, off with you then," she said jokingly before she totally lost her composure.

She turned on her heels, but stopped when Dave called her name. Emily turned to him expectantly as he made sure Reid – or anyone else for that matter – was out of earshot.

"It's none of my business, but I just have to get this off my chest…" He started before making sure that Emily was holding his gaze. "Hotch said you two were getting closer…"

He had? Emily opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"Like I said, it's none of my business, but… what I wanted you to know is that, well, I hope that it won't keep you from returning to us as a full member of the team."

A little embarrassed by what he was implying, Emily looked away, brows furrowed. "Well, we're not… I mean we haven't discussed…"

He let out a chuckle as he stopped her gain. "Oh I don't want to hear the details. I just wanted you to know that we're all hopeful that you'll come back, that's all."

Emily felt herself blushing slightly, as she nodded. "Thank you."

He gave her another smile, then a wink. "Good luck!"

And then he was gone.

* * *

><p>End chapter 10<p> 


	11. Option 2d

**Chapter 11: Option 2d**

Hotch was just about ready to start making dinner when there was a knock at the door. Curious, he looked into the peephole and smiled when he saw who it was.

"I seem to have taken the habit of showing up unannounced, sorry," Emily greeted with a grimace. "Is this a bad time?"

Hotch smiled. "Of course not, come on in." She looked edgy and Hotch wondered what was on her mind, but he decided to keep his distance until he knew what was bothering her. "I was just about to make dinner. Would you like to eat with us?" he asked as he led the way further in.

She shook her head as she looked around a little nervously. "I was at the FBI today," she said instead of replying to his offer, touching the fingers of both hands together repeatedly. "They want me back," she admitted on a breath, but then frowned. "They said I could have any assignment I wanted," she said seriously, her distraught expression in direct opposition to what she should have been feeling.

"Emily, that's great news," he said as he observed her carefully – it really was, but then why did she look so sad?

She swallowed visibly. "They also want to nominate me for a commendation – for bravery."

Hotch frowned as he stepped a little closer, confused by her teary expression. "Most people would think that's a good thing."

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze by looking at everything except him. "I feel like such a fraud," she blurted eventually, her voice cracking and her arms falling at her side. "There is absolutely no bravery in what I did. It was just all anger, and fear, and selfishness."

Hotch studied her quietly for a moment longer, her obvious anguish making his heart constrict painfully. Her eyes lowered, her brows furrowed into a deep frown, she looked devastated. "Come here," he said gently as he tugged on her hand and pulled her in for a hug. Her arms went around him as if in slow motion, but she leaned her head against his shoulder willingly.

"I know you feel like there's no honor in what happened to Doyle," Hotch said against her hair, "but I disagree with you about what you said. It took a lot of courage for you to stand up again and fight to get back what he'd taken from you."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes sad and shaking her head. "But a commendation… it just makes it sound like I was doing it for a greater purpose, when in truth it was just selfish."

"I don't think it was selfish. Personal, yes, but not selfish. Aside from getting your life back, what were you doing it for, really?"

She held his gaze, then sighed when she understood where he was going with this. "To protect the team, and Damian."

"That sounds like something only a brave person would do."

"Maybe, but it's not like I was working alone. What about the others? What about you? Doyle was shot six times… We're not even sure who fired the first shot." She shook her head. "If I hadn't been there, then somebody else would have made it happen."

"But you _were_ there, and you were in charge. Emily the sad truth is that leaders take the credit for the work of others as often as they have to take the blame. It's the way it works." She gave a small nod of agreement. "That said, you don't have to accept it."

She gave him a small smile. "I don't know, it kinda looks good on a résumé."

"Yes," Hotch agreed, a little relieved to find her sounding more like her playful self, "that it does."

She sniffed and Hotch stepped back a little, though he was still holding her hand. "So, you want to eat with us?" he said in a lighter tone.

She smiled. "Okay, sure." She looked around. "Where's Jack?"

"Playing in his room." He let her hand go as he made his way to the kitchen and she followed him. "So, I wonder what assignment you'll request?" he teased as he got pots and pans out from under the counter.

"I'm thinking the BAU, but I don't know," she said as she made a dubious face, "I hear the unit chief can be kind of a pain in the ass."

Hotch threw her an amused look. "Is that so?"

She nodded with all the seriousness she could muster as she walked closer. "I guess I'll just have to somehow charm and dazzle my way into his heart," she said playfully as her arms slid around him.

Hotch puller her closer into his embrace, one of his hands coming up to touch her cheek. "Consider it mission accomplished," he replied as he leaned in and kissed her lips softly. He kept it light and affectionate – teasing even, before he pulled away with a smile and returned to the dinner preparations.

"What can I do?" she offered, and Hotch threw her a look.

"Where's the sling?" he asked; he hadn't noticed before that she wasn't wearing it.

"I threw its evil ashes into the wind," she quipped, but then she shrugged slightly. "The doctor said I didn't need it anymore if I was careful."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

"Alright then, lettuce washing?" he suggested and she took both the lettuce and salad-spinner from his hands, smiling.

As they prepared dinner she asked him when he would be ready to leave for Minnesota. She had heard back from the building manager earlier, and apparently she had gotten the apartment she'd applied for, her lease starting on Sunday. So she was trying to plan when to move in, and when to travel. Hotch suggested they look at airfares after dinner, that way they could just plan it together.

"Actually, I was thinking about driving back, instead of flying back," she said.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be driving around the Great Lakes in the middle of December? It might not be the best conditions."

"I know, but it's just something I need to do, I think."

"Some alone time?"

She smiled. "Only if you would rather fly. But if not, I would love some company."

"I don't know… 30-so hours in a car with you?" he said with a straight face.

She raised an eyebrow at his teasing. "Fine. Then I'll just find some hot and young hitchhiker to keep me company," she replied without losing a beat.

Hotch kissed the smirk off her face.

Jack seemed a little surprised to find Emily in the house again, but this time he seemed a bit more accepting, probably because she was so good and at ease with him. She easily struck up a conversation with him, making him talk about his favorite games, his toys, his kindergarten friends, anything that seemed to catch his interest. By the time they were done eating, she had become his best friend and he wanted to show her every toy and game he had in the house. Hotch could only watch, mesmerized, at how easily she now 'charmed and dazzled' his son.

After dinner they looked at the fares and it was decided that they would leave the following Monday - three days from then - and they would stay for a couple of nights. Neither of them mentioned sleeping arrangements, Hotch for fear that he would sound too presumptuous. But he figured that with her owning a house, and her hospitable neighbors in the house next door, they would be able to find an arrangement that she would be pleased with. Hotch also officially agreed to drive back with her; it would be safer, take less time if they had two drivers, and frankly it was just something that he wanted to do with her.

When they had the basics figured out, she rose to her feet, readying herself to leave. Jack hugged her legs as a goodbye, making her chuckle in surprise, then Hotch accompanied her to the door.

"Do you need help moving on Sunday?" he asked as she grabbed her bag.

She chuckled. "I don't own any furniture."

"Right. What about the furniture in the lake house?"

"I think I'm just going to leave it there, I'll be renting it out for a while."

He nodded.

"I might need a hand setting up everything when they deliver my new stuff though. That'll be after we come back. I was thinking of making it a BAU event, if the team's available."

"Good, I was getting worried you would have me build every Ikea furniture available in the store."

"Who says that's not exactly what I have in mind? I think the rest of us would greatly enjoy watching you work while we sip our beers."

Hotch shook his head in amusement and they shared a smile, until she moved and kissed him softly on the lips, keeping it chaste. "Good night," she said after she pulled back. She quickly left, as if afraid that he would try to convince her to stay. Not that it hadn't crossed his mind, but it was too soon, and he didn't think either of them were ready for the consequences.

And he was certain there would be a lot of them.

* * *

><p>Hotch didn't see Emily again until the day of their flight for Duluth. They had spoken on the phone only briefly over the weekend, as she had been busy shopping for things for her new place with Garcia and Seaver, and Hotch had had to do some Christmas shopping for Jack.<p>

They had decided to meet at the airport, since Emily hadn't told Garcia that Hotch was going with her. She was all smiles when she spotted him, but he could tell that she was nervous about going back to her small town. She told him that she had called the Higginses on Saturday to let them know that she was on her way. According to her they had been delighted to hear that everything had been settled so quickly overseas, and that it was especially good timing since they had not yet found anyone to rent her house in her absence.

"I just can't believe it's been just over two weeks since I left," she'd told him as they waited for their boarding call. "It feels like I've been gone for a year – so many things have happened."

Hotch busied himself with a book on the plane, but he wasn't two pages into it before he noticed that she was scribbling quickly on a piece of paper as she sat in the seat next to his. He leaned over her shoulder. The title read: _OPTIONS_. She'd already written several bullet points underneath, but she now seemed to be suffering from a lack of inspiration, holding her pen to her lips in concentration.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking about options," she said without glancing away from the sheet of paper.

"Options for what?"

She pushed the sheet in his direction and Hotch picked it up. It read:

_OPTIONS_

**1- _We don't work together:_**

_a) __Hotch retires _/that one had been scratched off_/  
><em>

_b) I get myself assigned to another unit (I'd rather not)_

_c) __I accept the CIA job offer _/also scratched off_/  
><em>

**2_- We both work at the BAU_**

_ a) Tell the powers that be before I get hired to make sure we're clear – RISKY (politics)_

_ b) Do not tell anyone and hope that no one ever finds out – more secrets…_

_ c) Tell only a few people (i.e. the team) that can help in case we need damage control – Morgan would be against the whole idea_

"Can you think of anything else?" she asked after a moment.

Hotch was amazed for a second that she seemed to be taking whatever was going on between them as seriously and with as much faith as he was. But then he sighed as he considered it. The list didn't sound all that promising. "A mix of 2a and 2c, perhaps? Talk to the team first and see what they say?" he suggested.

She gave him a dubious look. "Morgan is not going to like it… And to be honest I'm not sure I would be comfortable with option 2 altogether."

"What if Morgan stayed in charge then?"

"You want to step down from your position as unit chief?" she asked incredulously, but he could tell that she didn't think it was an _entirely_ bad idea. "I don't know Hotch…"

"It would take care of any favoritism issues at least. Morgan would call the shots and the two of us would be working on more equal footing," he argued.

She frowned as her eyes searched his. "You would really do that?"

"I've done it before," he shrugged. "Besides, stepping down would mean fewer responsibilities, and more time to spend with Jack… and with any welcome addition to my social life, of course."

"You're serious about this?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Were you being serious making the list?" he retorted.

"Yes, of course, but-"

"Then I'm completely serious."

She stared at him for a few seconds longer. "And you would still tell them?"

He shrugged again. "Dave knows already, and I don't think the others would mind. Like you said, only Morgan would have reservations, but being in charge would allow him some control over the situation and I think he would appreciate that. He would be the one to set the rules."

"Huh!" she said as she bit her cheek, considering it. "I kind of like that option…"

He smiled a little. "I kind of do too." He raised an eyebrow and extended his hand. She gave him an arch smile as she handed him the pen and he quickly added option '2d' to her list, then circled it twice. He gave her back the sheet and the pen and she spent a few seconds staring at the words he had written.

"Wow..."

"What?" Hotch asked curiously.

"I was planning on spending the rest of the flight trying to figure it out."

"Glad I could help. Let me know if you need anything else."

He smiled when she punched his arm.

* * *

><p>It had snowed since Emily had left.<p>

Not a lot, but just enough for it to crunch beneath her feet as she exited the rental car and looked around. She had missed this place, she thought as she took a deep breath of clean air. It wasn't as cold as it had been before she'd left, and the midday sun actually felt quite warm against her face as she moved towards the house and glanced at the half-frozen lake.

"It's beautiful out here," Hotch commented as he stepped at her side and followed her gaze to the frozen scenery- it was like a painting.

"Isn't it?"

After a few more seconds of nature appreciation and a smile in his direction, Emily moved on to the house while Hotch ventured closer to the water. Emily had left her keys with her neighbors, so she was content to walk around the porch for now, looking through windows to make sure everything was in order. Someone had shoveled the steps and snow-blown her entryway – Hugh Higgins, she assumed.

"Emmeline, is that you?"

Emily smiled as she heard Martha Higgins's voice calling just around the corner. She hurried back and grinned as she saw her friend smile warmly when she saw her.

"Oh it _is_ you!" she exclaimed and Emily walked to her for a quick hug. "I didn't recognize the car! I was wondering who was lurking around the property!"

"Oh, yeah, it's a rental," Emily explained. "How have you been Martha?"

"Oh quite well, you know things have a tendency to stay pretty much the same around here – you find me much the same as when you left."

Emily sighed – she wished she could say the same thing. She felt like an entirely different person. "It's good to see you! Is Hugh around today?"

"He's at the station, working, but he should be back- Oh my!"

Emily wondered what had made her stop mid-sentence with such surprise until she followed Martha's gaze over her shoulder and it fell on Hotch, who stood as if rooted to the spot just a short distance behind her, apparently as surprised as Martha was.

"Agent Hotchner!" Martha exclaimed with her hand to her chest as she looked between the two of them for a moment. "Why Emmeline, I think you have some explaining to do!" she said with good humor as she gave her a meaningful look. She walked towards Hotch and her movement seemed to snap him out of his surprise as he did the same, and they shook hands warmly.

"Good to see you again, Mrs. Higgins."

"I must say this is a surprise, but a good one! Welcome back, Agent Hotchner."

"Thank you, but please, call me Aaron."

Emily threw him a surprised look at this. She had rarely heard him use his first name when introducing himself, and strangely enough it had never occurred to her to call him by anything other than 'Hotch'. Was it too formal for where they were in their relationship? After all, he had stopped calling her Prentiss a long time ago, maybe it was time she did the same? She decided she would ask him about that later.

"…will be back for dinner, I hope you two will join us?" Martha was saying when Emily returned her attention to the conversation.

"Yes, of course, we'd love that," Emily agreed with a smile.

"Wonderful, I want to hear all about your trip and," Martha threw Hotch a look, "how you ran into each other again."

Emily felt the now familiar guilt settle in her stomach as she thought about the web of lies she had created. Would they ever forgive her? "Of course, I'll tell you guys everything," she promised, though to Emily the prospect wasn't nearly as exciting as Martha seemed to think it was.

Hotch seemed to feel her sudden dread because he walked closer and rested his hand against her back. She could hardly feel it through her winter coat, but she knew it was there, and it was all that mattered.

"Oh, you probably want your keys back now!" Martha said as if on second thought as she dug into her coat pocket.

"How's Ambassador?" Emily asked as her friend gave her back her keys and they made their way up the porch.

"Oh she missed you, you know! But I love her! Such a nice companion to have around, in fact I've been trying to convince Hugh to get our own. He won't admit it, but I think he's grown quite fond of her as well."

Emily smiled as she unlocked the door and the two of them walked in while Hotch went to get their stuff from the car. It was cold in the house, but everything was just as she'd left it and Emily took in a deep breath, relishing in the familiar smell of what had been her home for almost a year.

"We came and turned on the heat and the hot water every couple of days," Martha said, "just to make sure everything stayed in order."

"Thank you," Emily smiled gratefully as she turned on the heat. Hotch walked in with both their bags and Emily gave him a grateful smile.

"Well, what are neighbors for, right?" Martha replied as she looked between the two of them again. "If you'd like I can go get Ambassador now."

"Oh, I'll go with you," Emily suggested.

"Nonsense, you stay here and get settled, dear," Martha said with a pointed look, patting her hand as she passed her.

Emily let out a long breath after she left, looking around.

"Everything okay?" Hotch asked as he came to stand beside her.

"Yeah… it's just… strange. It feels as though I never left. It wasn't just all a dream, was it?" she asked with a sly smile.

He returned it as he stepped closer. "It feels very real to me."

"Hmm…But then again you would probably say that if you were a figment of my imagination," she retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"You seriously want to discuss philosophy right now?"

"Nah, I'd rather eat, I'm starving," she replied as she walked to the kitchen area. "I didn't leave much in here, but I think… Yes! Pasta and sauce in a jar," she announced in victory as she pulled the two items from her cupboards to show him.

They got to work, but only a few minutes elapsed before there was a knock on the door. Emily rushed over there and laughed when she called Ambassador and the dog's ears perked up before running to her, whining happily and wagging her non-existent tail as she moved excitedly around her legs. Emily crouched to pet her and laughed again as the dog tried to lick her face then rolled onto her back for Emily to scratch her stomach. "Yes, I've missed you too," Emily said in her silly-sounding voice as she complied for a few seconds.

Then she stood to her feet again and looked at Martha, who was looking at them with a fond smile. "Thanks again, for taking care of her," Emily said.

"Like I said, it was our pleasure. Here are her things," she added as she gave Emily the bag of food, along with everything else. "Well, I will see you two later," Martha said as she moved to leave. "Dinner at six?" she reminded them.

Emily smiled. "We wouldn't miss it."

* * *

><p>Hugh Higgins had been surprised to see Hotch again, but Emily thought she'd glimpsed something of an 'I told you so' in the look he had exchanged with his wife before he'd welcomed Hotch back.<p>

Hotch bore her neighbors' not-so-subtle curiosity remarkably well during dinner as they all ate and chatted about everything – the weather definitely being a hot topic - except what the Higginses were dying to know, and what Emily was dreading to reveal. Every time they made a reference to Emily's 'trip', she changed the subject.

When they'd talked about it earlier as they had taken a walk around the lake, Hotch had seemed to understand and accept Emily's need to be alone with her friends when the time came to tell them the truth. So now they were waiting for a good opportunity for Hotch to excuse himself without being rude. The opportunity presented itself when Martha announced it would take a few minutes before dessert was ready.

Hotch excused himself then, saying something about needing to call his son before the latter went to bed, and they both knew it wasn't a complete lie. The Higginses showed a little surprise at this, though Emily couldn't tell if it was from learning that he had a son, or from his leaving before dessert.

"Dinner was delicious once again, thank you," Hotch said as he nodded to Martha and shook the sheriff's hand.

"Won't you come back after?" Martha asked as they escorted him to the door. "We'll keep a piece of pie warm for you."

Emily met his eyes when Hotch glanced at her. "I'm afraid I can't," he replied as he put on his coat. "But I'm sure Em- _Em _has a lot to tell you."

Emily gave him a look at his almost slip of her name. "Yeah, and he's heard it all, so…" she added.

Hotch nodded, then turned to Emily. "I'll see you later," he told her, giving her a meaningful look as his fingers stroked her shoulder before he nodded again at their hosts, then walked out.

"Well Emmy, that was certainly a surprise," Martha said as they returned to the table. "How in the world did you two…?"

"Do you have any tea?" Emily asked in one last attempt to delay the inevitable, though she longed for something stronger to calm her nerves… "There's something I need to tell you both," she started once they were back at the table and her fingers warmed themselves around her cup.

"Hotch – Agent Hotchner and I… We already knew each other when we met last fall. We've known each other for years, now."

"Oh?" Understanding that Emily meant to have a discussion about something important, they exchanged an intrigued look.

Emily nodded, clearing her throat as she searched for the right words. "Yeah, I um… I used to work with him."

Sheriff Higgins shifted on his seat. "With the FBI?"

Emily met his eyes warily. "With the BAU, actually."

He seemed to think she was joking for a second, but then, seeing her expression, truly considered what she was saying. She saw it the second it dawned on him, how pieces seemed to fall together. But then he frowned. "I don't understand…Then why did you pretend… During that serial murder case, why did you pretend not to know anything about law enforcement, or that you didn't know him?"

Emily took in a deep breath as she glanced from one expectant and slightly wary expression to the other. "I had to. For everyone's safety." She paused. "You guys were right when you thought I was running from something when I first got here."

Martha raised her hand to her chest as she exchanged a concerned look with Hugh.

"There was a man - a very dangerous man," Emily went on, "that I met as part of my job years ago. About a year ago, he came after me, threatening to kill my friends. It's a long story, but suffice it to say, I was seriously injured during our confrontation, but he escaped. And for everyone's safety, the CIA and FBI faked my death – so that everyone, including that man and most of my friends, thought he had killed me that night. To keep everyone safe, I had to start over under a new identity, and well… I came here."

"A new identity?" Martha repeated. "Emmeline Pollard is not your real name?" she asked, sounding slightly in shock at Emily's story.

She shook her head. "My name is Emily Prentiss."

They fell silent for a long moment as they took everything in.

"You're serious about this, you're not yanking our chain?" Hugh said.

"I'm afraid not. I know it's a crazy story, but I thought… You two have been my closest friends over the last year, and you deserve the truth."

"Why tell us now?" Hugh asked.

"Are you still in danger? Is that why Agent Hotchner travels with you?" Martha chimed in.

Emily shook her head again. "That trip I went on… I actually got a call a little more than a couple of weeks ago, saying that this man had been spotted on the East Coast. So I joined the task force to find him again."

"And you did? Find him I mean?" Hugh asked.

Emily nodded. "Yeah, I did. He's not a threat anymore."

They fell silent again as they digested this, but Emily could see how Hugh was starting to look at her a little differently. She wasn't the vulnerable young woman who 'wouldn't hurt a fly' he had taken under his wing anymore. Though she had not been explicit, he knew full well what she meant by her last comment – she had killed a man, probably more than one, in her line of work. She wondered if he felt betrayed – like Morgan, or he if resented her for letting him believe her act. Morgan had said that when he'd first learned about Doyle and Emily's relationship, his reaction was to feel like he didn't know her anymore. Was this how Hugh felt now? Was he afraid of what she was capable of? Like Hotch had been when he'd thought she had killed Declan?

"I'm sorry I lied to you both," Emily admitted after a moment. "And to everyone in this town. But it was what I had to do to protect myself and those I cared about." She paused. "I'm deeply sorry."

The couple exchanged a look, then Martha patted her hand across the table. "We understand, my dear. Of course we do," she said, though Hugh didn't look all that convinced. "That must have been so scary!"

"It was," Emily admitted in a small voice. She realized it was one of the first times she had acknowledged how truly scared she had been.

"What of Agent Hotchner?" Martha inquired.

Emily couldn't help a smile from escaping her lips and she felt herself blush. "Well, I guess you could say we've grown closer since we met unexpectedly last fall."

"Ah ha, so you two _are _a couple!" Martha exclaimed in a 'I knew it!' and surprising high-schoolish tone.

Emily smiled shyly. "I guess you could say that. It's still kinda… new."

"So what now?" Hugh asked, making Emily turn serious again. Here came the difficult part.

She took a deep breath before she met their eyes again. "I'm returning to the FBI. In Quantico, Virginia."

"For how long?"

Emily smiled in an effort to bite back the tears prickling her eyes. "For another 20 years at least, I hope," she joked.

"You're moving away permanently?"

She nodded silently, afraid that if she spoke her voice would crack.

"We're so sorry to hear that, my dear," Martha said sadly.

"Me too. This place has become very close to my heart. I'll come and visit, though, I intend on keeping the house. And rent it out when I'm not around," Emily said, trying to sound cheerful.

"So when are you leaving?" Hugh asked.

"The day after tomorrow. I know it's soon, but I'll be back over the next few weeks, to make sure that everything is organized."

They fell silent again, and Emily thought this would be a good time to leave. They obviously needed some time to take everything in, and Emily felt raw with emotions. Martha insisted that she take a piece of pie for Hotch, and after that Emily bid them both goodnight, then left.

* * *

><p>End chapter 11<p> 


	12. Of Fires and Chameleons

**Chapter 12: Of Fires and Chameleons**

Hotch was getting better acquainted with Ambassador when Emily came back. It had taken a good while before the dog had accepted Hotch, but once she had, she hadn't left his side. Hotch had told Jack about her during their call and his son had been excited to hear that he would have access to a dog when they came back. And now, with Hotch sitting on the couch and Ambassador's head on his thigh as she lay next to him, Hotch was pretty sure that he was witnessing the ultimate canine demonstration of trust.

Emily smiled slightly as she came through the door and saw them, her cheeks and nose a little pink. She had been gone close to two hours, and though Hotch had not been worried about her safety, he had been concerned about how her conversation with the Higginses was going. So when she came back, he watched her carefully as she took off her coat, put some kind of container on the table and walked to the couch, ordering Ambassador down so that she could take her spot next to Hotch.

"Have you been walking?" Hotch asked at how cold she felt as she snuggled closer, pulling her knees to her chest and leaning into him.

"For a little while. I needed to clear my head."

"How did it go?"

She shrugged a little, but her low voice shook slightly when she replied. "Better than expected, I suppose. They were very understanding."

"They're good people," Hotch agreed gently.

"Yes, they are."

She fell silent and, sensing her melancholy mood, Hotch wasn't about to press her, so he pulled her a little closer instead and sighed when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I hate this feeling," she said eventually, her fingers toying with a loose thread on her sleeve. "The guilt. I could tell that Hugh felt like I had betrayed his trust, and there's nothing I could have said to make it better."

"Just give him some time. He'll come around. We all did."

"That's the thing, though, isn't it?" she asked as she straightened up to look at him. "I'm leaving, so I won't be able to make it up to them like I can with the team."

"You could stay longer," Hotch suggested.

She considered it for a second, then shook her head and returned to her previous position against his side. "No, there isn't much use in prolonging my goodbyes."

Hotch wasn't quite sure how to reply to this, so he simply tightened his embrace around her shoulders.

They fell silent again and Hotch was starting to think she had fallen asleep when she suddenly moved and pushed herself off him to sit up straight. "I'm going to take a quick shower before we go to be…d." The last couple of words faltered out of her mouth when she realized what she was saying, and what they had definitely _not_ talked about.

She stared at him, and Hotch's pulse accelerated when he saw her blush.

"I'll sleep wherever you want me to sleep," he said quickly.

As was typical of her, she hid her embarrassment with playfulness. "Anywhere?" she asked saucily as she rose to her feet.

Hotch gave her an amused glance. "Well, within reason. I'm hopeful that you won't want me out in the barn. Do you have a guest room?" he suggested as he too rose to his feet.

"It's not furnished," she said with an apologetic expression.

"Then I'll take the couch."

She gave him a strange studying look, half-amused and half something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Are you sure?" she asked after a few interminable seconds.

"Of course. Emily the last thing I want is to make this awkward."

She gave a brief chuckle and an arched eyebrow. "I think it's too late for that."

"I'm sorry," he cleared his throat. "I'm sure, I'll take the couch," he repeated with determination.

She nodded, more seriously this time. "Okay. Martha's sent you a piece of pie, please help yourself. I'll bring you some blankets and stuff in a few minutes."

Hotch shook his head at himself after she left. That had been smooth, just smooth. He'd meant what he said though: the last thing he wanted was to make this awkward. So far their relationship seemed to have evolved at its own pace; gradually, step by step, allowing the both them to get used to the idea of more. He was comfortable with her now, and he liked to think that she was too.

He would be lying if he said he didn't want her – he did, with every fiber of his body - and every time she stood near him, or snuggled into his side, he had to fight the urge to just lean in and kiss her as if his life depended on it. But so far they had taken things slowly, and he wasn't about to pressure her into rushing into anything just because they happened to sleep under the same roof for the night. He had also noticed that, although she was always willing and enthusiastic, she rarely started displays of affection, or when she did she kept it simple and chaste. Hotch had taken it as another sign that she needed to move slowly, and he was absolutely fine with that. He just wanted her to be comfortable and happy when she was with him. That was all that mattered.

Despite his resolution to be good, Hotch couldn't help but stare at her when she came back a few minutes later. Her hair was still wet from the shower and, with the sweat pants, old FBI t-shirt and her feet clad in woolen socks, she looked utterly irresistible. He'd never honestly thought that he would find that look attractive on a woman, but man, was he wrong.

Oblivious to his staring, she walked closer, her arms full with blankets and pillows, which she dropped onto the couch. "It's still kind of cool in here. Would you like me to make a fire in the fireplace?"

He smiled as he stepped closer, attracted like a magnet. She still smelled of shampoo and soap, and he longed to touch her hair, just to see if it was as soft when it was wet as it was when it was dry. "I can do it," he replied to her question.

She grinned. "Good, because I don't know how. I've never used the fireplace."

Hotch's smile widened at this. "You're CIA-trained and you don't know how to build a fire?"

"It's the CIA, not the boy scouts," she retorted playfully. She looked around a little before her gaze settled back on his face. "Am I missing something, is there anything else you need?"

Hotch bit back a smile at her nervous concern. "I think I'll be fine," he assured her.

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Alright then, I'll… I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked in uncertainty.

Hotch nodded, studying her face carefully. Why did she look so nervous? Was he afraid that he wouldn't respect her wishes and go to her room in the middle of the night? She _must_ know he would never do that uninvited!

"Good night, then!" she said as she threw him a look. She turned to leave, but Hotch caught her hand, stopping her.

"Emily," he said simply, forcing her to face him with a gentle but firm tug on her hand. "Everything okay?"

She nodded quickly, but he immediately noticed her frown. "Yeah," she swallowed, "yeah, I'm just being silly. I think I'm just tired," she said with a brief smile.

Still observing her carefully, Hotch nodded slowly as he released her hand and touched her cheek gently. "Okay. You should get some sleep then. I'll be right here if you need anything."

She leaned into his touch a little and gave him a more genuine smile, which reassured Hotch somewhat. "Good night."

"Good night," he said as he watched her step away.

After taking care of his night routine, Hotch took a few minutes to find what he needed to build a fire, and after a few minutes he was able to make a reasonable blaze that would warm up the living room, and hopefully most of the house as well. The warmth and fire cracking sounds soon lulled him to sleep.

He wasn't sure what it was that woke him up exactly, but when Hotch opened his eyes, Emily was sitting on the edge of the couch. She pulled back the covers and crawled underneath, lying down next to him.

"Emily?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I'm cold," she replied as she snuggled closer.

Carefully, he moved to make her some more room and pulled her close as she lied down, half on top of him and her head on his shoulder. "Better?"

She sighed. "Much."

Hotch closed his eyes again, grateful for the extra warmth of her body, and he was close to falling asleep again when she spoke.

"I've always thought that to be a profiler, one needed to be a little crazy. No offense."

Hotch smiled sleepily as he absentmindedly stroked her hair. "None taken."

She moved away and Hotch opened his eyes at the loss of contact. She was looking down at him, leaning on her elbow, her temple against her knuckles. He forced himself awake and met her intense look when he saw her grave and serious expression.

"My own personal brand of craziness has always been my ability to compartmentalize – to push aside my feelings so that I could blend into any crowd," she continued softly but with determination. "Like a chameleon."

Hotch considered her words for a second, part of him wondering why she was telling him this now. What had brought on this introspection? "I don't think that's being crazy," he replied as his hand returned to the softness of her hair. The fire was weakening, but the remaining blaze cast her face in light in shadows, the light reflecting in her eyes and against her hair.

"I just…" she frowned. "I just don't want you to think that I've spent my whole life pretending to be someone I wasn't."

"I have thought no such thing," Hotch assured her as he shifted onto his side to mirror her position, so that they were truly facing each other on the narrow couch.

"I mean it would be true, if you thought that. Because I feel like I've been that way most of my life. Moving around as a kid, trying to belong wherever I went, then working for the CIA, with all the pretense and the secrecy…" She sighed softly. "The only time I haven't felt like a fake was during my time at the BAU."

Though Hotch understood the seriousness of what she was admitting, he smiled a little in recollection. "I've always thought you were the most expressive person I knew. Obviously you were good at acting, but I was pretty confident I could read you like an open book. I was probably wrong most of the time, but who cares about that?" he asked a little jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I don't think you were wrong. Working with you guys… I didn't have to hide. For the first time in my life, I found out who I was, and who I wanted to be." She paused for a long moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did you really believe that I had killed Declan?"

Hotch was surprised by the question so he held her gaze for a long moment before he sighed. "I think deep down I knew the truth, but I admit… I had doubts at the time. Does that make you sad?"

"A little."

"It shouldn't. Because as soon as you told me about what really happened, everything fell into place. It merely confirmed what I'd known deep down: that you were the wonderful, selfless woman that I'd always known you to be."

She smiled slightly at that, raising an eyebrow. "Always?"

"Well, we did get off on a rocky start… so maybe not _always_. But for the last 6 years, at least." He shook his head. "The doubts didn't matter to me."

"How could they not matter? Haven't you ever heard of 'reasonable doubt,' Mister Prosecutor?" her tone was playful, but Hotch could tell that the question was very much serious.

"Because there was nothing reasonable about my doubts. They were just a manifestation of fear. And maybe some misplaced anger. But anger quickly dissipated when I truly understood what you were going through."

"And fear?"

"Fear…" Hotch sighed. "It never really goes away, does it?"

"No, I guess it doesn't," she agreed.

Absolutely serious, her gaze locked with his as she looked at him openly and with an intensity he had rarely seen in her eyes before. After several seconds, her eyes darted down to his mouth and she leaned in and kissed his lips, this time with more hunger than she had ever kissed him before. Slightly surprised – but agreeably so – Hotch responded in kind, bringing his free hand up to tangle into her hair again. Their lips still exploring hungrily, she shifted and before he knew it they were back in their previous position, with him on his back and her lying half on top of him. She deepened the kiss and Hotch couldn't help the sound that escaped his throat as she touched his tongue with hers, the contact electrifying.

He pushed her back gently, trying to look at her face. Her dark hair fell all around her face so that most of her expression was in shadows. He could only see her eyes, wide and twinkling and bewitching.

"What are you doing?" he heard himself ask as he brushed her hair back.

She gave him a saucy smile. "I'm glad you ask, because that, Agent Hotchner, is what we commonly refer to in the English language as _kissing_," she said cheekily.

He snorted and she leaned in again, once more taking possession of his lips hungrily as one of her hands moved around his torso, bringing her even more fully against him, while the other slid into his hair.

He pushed her back again, breathless. "Emily," he said warningly, but he was quickly losing his inner battle.

"Shh," she breathed as her lips slid along his jaw, then nuzzled his neck. "I'm trying to seduce you here."

"And it's working a little too well," he said as he pulled back again, this time making sure that she met his eyes. "Emily, I'm losing it here. Are you sure this is what you want?"

She smiled – a genuine, albeit somewhat shy smile – as her fingers moved through his hair. "I'm sure."

The simple answer sent his blood racing through his veins and they gazed at each other for a long time. He smiled slowly. "Then, forgive the interruption, Agent," he said playfully. "Please, carry on."

She chuckled, then did just that.

* * *

><p>Emily found herself alone on the couch when she woke up.<p>

The morning sun was shining brightly through the windows. Looking around, there was no sign of Hotch, but there was a definite smell of coffee in the air, so she assumed he must be around in the house somewhere that she just couldn't see. She lay back down with a grin as her mind inevitably went back to the night before, and how slow and exploratory and just downright powerful it had been.

Emily had been a little anxious about this trip, not only because it meant telling the truth to her neighbors, but also because she had been acutely aware that she and Hotch would spend those three days basically alone together. There was something scary about the simple everyday life in a relationship, especially for them – their interactions had always revolved around work, or high-stress situations and life-threatening missions. How would they do when they had only themselves for company? And she had known that she would have the opportunity to move their relationship to the next step if she so desired.

And desire it, she had. Emily had wanted it since that first brief kiss she had placed on the corner of his mouth. Before that brief contact, her desire for Hotch had been kind of a fantasy, but after she had felt his skin under her lips, she had known what it was like to truly desire him. When she had invited him on the trip, she had been fully aware of the potential changes that it could bring to their relationship. She had even planned on having the talk with him about their options so that it was entirely clear between them where they were going with this – and again, he had surprised her by coming up with the perfect solution. His eagerness to make it work had amazed her, once more showing her that he was as serious about this as she was. So that had been another potential issue out of the way.

But last night as she had showered, she'd started to second-guess herself. What if it was too soon? What if they weren't quite ready for the consequences yet? And the damn scars….

Emily grinned as she remembered his reaction when she had momentarily stopped him last night, when his fingers had reached underneath her t-shirt to brush against the skin of her stomach.

"Wait, the scars…" she'd breathed before she could stop herself.

He had looked into her eyes for the longest time as he'd hovered over her, his hands still, trying to read into her mind. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he'd said softly, and though it was one of those lines that were just so cliché, he was so grave when he said it that Emily immediately understood the vulnerability implied in the words - she wasn't the only one to carry the physical traces of the violent world they lived in.

He had them too.

It was all it took to dissipate her anxieties. And then there had been nothing but reverence, wonder and passion in his slow touches and ardent looks.

Unable to stop smiling, Emily sat up and quickly gathered her discarded clothes so she could get dressed and went in search of him. She had expected him to be in the shower, but the bathroom was vacant. It was only when she noticed that Ambassador was also suspiciously missing that she realized he must have taken her out. She walked back to the kitchen and poured herself some coffee and sat at the table, quietly sipping it as she looked out the window to the beautiful view on the lake, lost in her own thoughts.

He returned not very long after that, and Emily gave him warm smile as he came through the door and he spotted her. Ambassador excitedly trotted to her as a greeting and Emily stroked her head.

"I was hoping I'd be back before you woke up," Hotch said as he took off his coat and boots and walked to her.

"Good morning," Emily greeted him properly as she rose to her feet and welcomed him with a soft and slow kiss.

He smiled, a real, full, happy smile – the one that she so rarely witnessed - when she pulled back and Emily's heart skipped a beat at the sight. She had always thought him handsome, but she couldn't get enough of looking at him now that they had truly seen each other, body and soul. He touched her cheek affectionately before disentangling himself from her arms.

"I went to get breakfast," he said as he grabbed the bags he'd put on the table and perused their content. "Bagels, muffins, croissants, some eggs… I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for, so I got a bit of everything."

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, Emily followed him and, moving to stand in the small space between him and the table, she slid her arms around him and kissed him again, her hands sliding under his sweater to touch the skin of his back. She smiled in satisfaction when she felt him drop the bags back onto the table and move his hands so he could pull her closer against him, deepening the kiss.

"Are you trying to distract me from making you breakfast?" he breathed against her neck.

"I would never," she gasped as his lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot.

"That's what I thought."

It was another hour before they mentioned breakfast again.

* * *

><p>End chapter 12... Next, the epilogue!<p> 


	13. Epilogue

Here we go folks! The last installment to this story!

**Epilogue**

They stayed at the lake house for another day and night. During that time Emily took the opportunity to visit her neighbors again. They were as welcoming as ever, but Emily could tell that something had changed since she had told them the truth. Hugh especially appeared more distant. She couldn't blame him, but still, it deeply saddened her. So it was with a heavy heart that she said her goodbyes, glanced at her house and the lake one last time, and got into the car, with a promise to herself that she would return often, if only for a quick vacation weekends.

They made good time on the drive - despite some bad winter conditions – so that three days later they were back in DC.

Emily went back to stay with Garcia, but since her building had a no-pet policy, Hotch had suggested he take Ambassador with him for the time being. Emily had been a little reluctant, for various reasons, the most important of which being that the dog shouldn't be his responsibility. But in the end he had convinced her, winning her over when he said it would be a surprise for Jack.

Emily enjoyed spending those few days with Garcia, but on the other hand not having many opportunities to spend some intimate time with Hotch made her quite eager to move into her own place. So she quickly organized a 'moving' day with the team; painting, moving around and/or building the furniture she had ordered was on the menu. Despite the work involved, they all agreed readily, so Emily was excited to have all of them reunited again. It would be kind of her own welcome home party.

She and Hotch had thought to make that day the day their secret would get out to the rest of the team. They had agreed that Morgan needed to be told separately, though, so Hotch had a discussion with him the day after their return. Emily was not present for the conversation, but later Hotch related how Morgan had been angry at first, wondering what else they were keeping from the rest of the team. But then as Hotch had laid out his proposition for him to keep the unit chief position, Morgan had gotten over his surprise and started to look at the situation with his usual maturity and candidness. In the end he had told him he would think about it. So when moving day finally came a few days later, they both expected Morgan to give them an answer before the day ended.

Emily and Hotch had already started painting the living room – with her landlord's permission, of course - when Morgan arrived early that morning, hands full with take-out coffee and breakfast. He showed little surprise at finding them already at work together, nor at watching Jack run around the house with an unfamiliar dog on his heels. Emily guessed he had thought about it long enough to get accustomed to the idea of his teammates in a romantic relationship.

"I've been thinking about your proposition, Hotch," Morgan started as they gathered around and he distributed the food and coffee he'd brought.

Emily exchanged a look with Hotch before he returned his attention to Morgan and nodded. "What have you decided?"

Morgan looked between the two of them for a moment, his fingers tapping the lid of his coffee cup as he considered his words. "Forgive me for asking, but you guys are really serious about this? It's not just… like some kind of fling?"

"Not a fling. We're serious," Emily stated firmly. She didn't even have to look at Hotch to know that he was in agreement.

Morgan studied them seriously for a moment longer. "Then I'm happy for you guys, really. But how do you suggest we make this work? I'll be in charge of the team, and then what?"

Hotch told him what he had in mind – basically that Morgan would be the one to set the rules so that everything went smoothly while they were on a case. Whether that involved not having them partner up together, or whatever else, Emily and Hotch would respect it. They were both eager to make this work, so they were prepared to act professional, just like they always had in the past.

"I don't doubt your professionalism, but what about the others?"

"We were hoping to discuss it with them today," Hotch replied. "Depending on your answer to my offer. But we wanted to make sure that you're on board with this first, otherwise we'll need to figure out something else. But ultimately this will be a team decision, and it has to be unanimous."

Morgan nodded. "I appreciate that."

Hotch gave a curt nod.

"So, what do you say?" Emily asked, unable to resist.

He gave them a pensive look, then nodded. "Okay. But only if the others also agree."

"It goes without saying," Hotch agreed as he extended his hand, and Morgan shook it.

At last the younger agent let out a slow smile. "You guys… Garcia's gonna have a fit when she hears about this."

He was right.

There had been no easy way to make the announcement, but when they were done for the day, Emily ordered some pizza for everyone, and taking advantage of the overall good humor, Emily had told them first that she was officially returning to the team. She had officially made the request through the appropriate channels, and because they had told her that she could get any assignment she wanted, she was certain that her request would be granted.

There was some good cheer as everyone clanked their drinks together.

"But there are going to be some changes when I return next week," Hotch had announced from his seat next to hers, a bit more gravely. "For one I will be permanently stepping down from my position as unit chief. Morgan will take the role, just as he's done in the past. I have every confidence in his abilities to lead this team where it needs to go."

There were some surprised looks and exchanged glances. "What, why?" Reid asked with a little confusion. "I mean, no offense to Morgan, but why?"

Emily exchanged a long look with Hotch at this, and before any of them could open their mouths, Garcia jumped to her feet.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed quickly, he hands covering her mouth in shock. "Oh my God!"

Reid looked up confused. "What?"

"There's no way! You two…!" Garcia added with a squeal.

At this point Seaver had caught up and was looking at them with wide eyes.

"What? _What_?" Reid kept asking. "I don't get it!"

"They're… They're… They're a couple!" Garcia exclaimed, her finger accusingly pointing in their direction.

"Yes, Garcia is correct," Hotch intervened with the hint of a smile. "And we hope you all think that this is a good thing," he gave Emily a brief look before he returned his attention to the rest of the crew. "But we're telling you all now because we need to make sure. This will obviously affect all of you, and how we work as a team. So your input is essential if we want to make this work."

"Are you kidding? This is great!" Reid said with a smile, as he glanced around at the others to see their reactions.

"Seaver?" Emily asked.

She still looked a little stunned. "Well I... I certainly don't have a problem with it!"

"Dave?" Hotch asked.

"I think it'll take some time to adjust, but I'm willing to give it a try."

"Penelope?"

Garcia dropped herself back onto her seat. "I'm still too stunned to think straight. But of course I think it's wonderful! Emily Prentiss I'm going to have to smack you over the head for keeping this to yourself all this time while you were living under my roof! Capital offense!" she threatened with good humor.

Emily and Hotch both turned to look at Morgan. He smiled and raised his drink again. "To those changes that are for the best, and to the return of our good friend!"

Later that night, Emily and Hotch sat quietly together in her living room, with Jack fast asleep on the empty space next to them. The day playing with the dog and just running around apparently got the best of him.

"You know, I'm glad you decided to keep this couch, it's amazingly comfortable," Hotch said as he looked around her new home and his hand stroked the cushion.

Emily grinned against his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"For some reason it's really close to my heart now. I would have hated to see it stay behind."

She chuckled a little. "Yeah, me too."

They fell silent, just enjoying the moment.

"I think it went pretty well, don't you think?" Emily asked eventually, in a low voice.

"It did," Hotch agreed, his hand drawing lazy circles on her arm. "Are you surprised?"

"Not entirely. I think Dave's right, though. It _will_ take some getting used to."

"Maybe. But at least we won't have to hide. That's good, isn't it?"

"Are you kidding? It's pretty incredible. I feel like I've had secrets to hide for so long, it's almost strange not to have any." She smiled. "Aaron Hotchner, I think you'll make an honest woman out of me yet," she teased.

"That'll be the day."

"Tease."

* * *

><p>THE END<p>

Well there you go! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Although I must admit that it was much harder than I'D thought to come up with a way for them to actually find Doyle and Declan, and be able to track them down! It was definitely a challenge, but I hope I was able to make it believable at least! Now I'll be anxiously waiting for season 7 to see how the pros will make it happen :-) But anyways, thanks for reading, and comments and reviews are welcome :-)


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